


A Place in the World

by genderqueer_batman



Category: Agent Carter (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1940s, Asexual Natasha Romanov, Bisexual Peggy Carter, F/F, F/M, also 2010s, hopefully cool other things, idk - Freeform, past cartinelli, past steggy, shit happens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-06
Updated: 2017-11-29
Packaged: 2018-04-25 05:20:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 47
Words: 62,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4948207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/genderqueer_batman/pseuds/genderqueer_batman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's 1948. Natalia Romanova is sent to New York to kill Peggy Carter. She doesn't and instead chooses to join SHIELD. Then Nat and Peggy go on missions together and fall in love. But Peggy ages while Nat doesn't.</p><p> </p><p>Dedicated to the best grandpa anyone could ever want. You'll be in my heart always<br/>2/6/1936 - 12/2/2015</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Ace Black Widow is my favorite headcanon. That is the main reason for writing this

This was the first time Natalia was being assigned to America, the first time she was sent across an ocean. Was she scared? No. She had been in far more dangerous situations before. She could handle this, easily.

Although it would be one of her riskier missions. Not only did she have to kill one of the most powerful women in the world, but she only had two weeks to do it. Otherwise, she was next.

Her superiors knew she was the best for the job, and frankly, Natalia agreed with them. None of the other girls from the Red Room were ready for this.  
Leviathan's influence was so great, they had managed to get Natalia her own flight from Poland to France, and then from France to America. Then, she would be on her own to do anything she could to complete her mission.

And what a task it would be. A well-oiled machine against the only woman who had the potential to stop it. Natalia smiled to herself. She was damn ready for the challenge.

***

As she boarded the plane to America, her Leviathan escort stayed behind. Natalia was thankful; she hadn't liked him at all. He hadn't said a single word o her, and he never took off the mask that covered his face. Natalia understood why, of course - if she was ever caught, how could she possibly identify him? A somewhat tall man with a stocky build? It would be anyone in the country.

But just because she understood it didn't mean she had to like it.

Between her years in the Red Room and various missions, Natalia had mastered the art of napping where she could. The pilot and his crew had all been instructed to leave her alone, so she enjoyed a few hours' sleep in solitude until the pre-landing turbulence woke her.

In no time at all she was alone in the biggest city in America, with not a rouble to her name.

But Natalia knew she could handle this. She knew, and Leviathan knew, and that was why she was there. Her, and not one of the other Widows.

And she was not going to fail.


	2. Chapter 2

They didn't call her the Black Widow for nothing. After barely an hour had passed Natalia had stolen several wallets and found a motel to spend the night in. Next on the agenda was food - she hadn't eaten since Russia.

She didn't know where she might find a place to eat at this hour, but New York was the city that never slept. She was sure to find something soon.

And that she did. The lights from a small sandwich shop a couple blocks from her motel welcomed her inside.

Natalia would have loved to stay out longer and explore the city she never dreamed she would ever see. But she was exhausted from her flight. It had been a long day, and she wanted nothing more than a pillow under her head and soft sheets holding her body.

That was when she saw him. The most famous face worldwide.

Her superiors had mentioned, in her mission debriefing, where in the city Natalia would be most likely to find her target. And as always, they did not disappoint.

No, she had not been sent to kill Howard Stark. In the two years since Dottie's failed mission, he had proved himself useful. They would keep him around for awhile.

The woman, on the other hand... she was more trouble than she was worth.

Natalia had read a lot about her. The stories, both during the war and after, were impressive. But she was a nuisance and had to be disposed of before she could cause any more trouble.

And where Howard Stark was, Peggy Carter could not be far away.

It was not likely that Natalia would see her target tonight. Stark was famous for much more than just his inventions, and Natalia was certain that Carter did not share his wild lifestyle.

She watched as Stark ducked inside a cab and drove off. Her eyes narrowed and her lips curled into a smirk. She couldn't follow him, but she knew he would be back.

And Howard Stark had only two known weaknesses: raspberry truffles, and women. Natalia couldn't get to Carter via raspberry truffles, so she had only one other option.

It was risky, since Dottie had used that strategy back in '46. But Natalia had nothing else to use against him, as uncomfortable as she was with the idea.

She was strong. She could do anything it took to complete her mission. Hell, she was the Black Widow. And she would stop at nothing.

Tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the chapters are gonna be a bit longer than this. I'm handwriting as well and I'm a bit farther in my notebook than online.   
> And I read through several episodes of the Agent Carter script just to find the one line where Jarvis mentions the truffles. One of my finer moments


	3. Chapter 3

Natalia left her motel and spent much of the next day exploring her new surroundings. New York City was nothing like her hometown of Stalingrad. Here, the Americans went about their business unafraid, whilst in the USSR, everyone was half-expecting an American attack.

She had even believed that the Americans were to blame for the fire that had burned down her house, killing her parents.

Not long after that, she had been sold to the Black Widow program within Leviathan, where she learned that even though Americans had no plans to attack - yet - fear was an important factor in control.

Over ten years later, Natalia had mastered fear.

Another difference was the economy. Here, the city was thriving. Many men were making a good living for their wives and children. In Stalingrad, Natalia remembered, almost everyone was starving half to death.

Six years of her life were wasted in Stalingrad. Looking back, Natalia could see the fire as a blessing. Even though her family had died, she would have had no future in the city. What would she have been but a wife to a man she didn't love?

No, she was meant for far greater things. Although Natalia herself was nothing, the Black Widow was a name to be feared.

As the sun began to set, Natalia headed for a nightclub that Stark was known to visit. She'd had to buy a dress specifically for tonight - if she didn't look like she had money, she wouldn't be let in.

She waited outside for him, to make sure he was coming. After almost an hour of being unashamedly ogled by men passing by, Natalia watched as Stark exited a car and headed for the door to the club.

"Hey baby, who are you dressed up for?" a dark-haired man leered at Natalia. "I bet he's not worth it. Why don't you come with me instead?"

It would be so easy to make sure he never said a word to her again. But men like this, although despicable, were not Natalia's target, and she couldn't afford to draw any unwanted attention to herself.

Or else she would be dead as well.

Squeezing her crimson lips together, Natalia also entered the nightclub. The doorman took her coat and she entered the crowd.

Her red dress, skirt several centimeters too short and neckline too low for a proper lady, drew many eyes to her. Now it was exactly what she needed.

A tall, well-built man approached her and politely asked for a dance. Natalia accepted and held out her hand to him. This man didn't matter, and as Natalia danced with him she kept an eye out for Stark, moving her hips more sensually when she caught him watching her.

After several songs, Natalia bid her dance partner farewell in favor of another. She had seen this second man, short and blond, dance with several other girls, all of whom had left because of where his hands had dared to go.

Natalia herself didn't particularly like such touching, but it was a necessary evil in this case. Quite a few times she had caught Stark's eye over the shoulder of her first partner. She had his attention, and now she needed his jealousy.

Her strategy worked, as she knew it would. Natalia felt the blond man's hand move off her ass as Stark approached.

Letting go of his arm, Stark murmured, "Mind if I have a dance with the lady?"

The blond stepped away, and Natalia was soon pulled close into Howard Stark. She breathed in his cologne as he spoke.

"Not many girls get my attention as easily as you." The words flowed smoothly off his tongue. "How do you do it?"

How many times did he use that line on girls like her? Natalia met his eyes with a teasing smile. "I am irresistible," she purred, brushing against him.

Stark chuckled. "Confident, too, I see. I like that."

The two of them danced for a while, Natalia letting Stark lead them slowly to the back corner. When they were far enough into the shadows, Stark brought his hands from her hips to her face and pulled her to him for a kiss.

His expert lips, warm against Natalia's skin, moved with her own. With one hand in his hair and one on his tie, she pulled him farther away from the crowd, until she felt her back press against the wall. And she pulled him against her even still.

Minutes passed, and Natalia didn't think there was a part of her body that Stark hadn't touched. He gasped sharply as she took her lips from his to suck on his earlobe.

"You know," he told her, his words airy, "I have a place if you want to take this somewhere more private."

As an answer Natalia kissed him again on the lips. He slammed her head back against the wall as her teeth played with his bottom lip.

When he pulled back, Natalia followed. He wrapped a possessive arm around her waist as they headed for the door.

It was a short walk to where Stark's car was parked, a chauffeur waiting in the driver's seat. "You know where to go, Jarvis."

The chauffeur, Jarvis, nodded and said, "Of course, Mr. Stark," as Natalia crawled into the backseat after Stark.

They kissed all the way back to Stark's chosen residence. He led her inside, through rooms bigger than whole houses, to the master bedroom. He gestured grandly to the bed. "I'll treat you like a queen tonight," he promised.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story gets a lot more interesting after this. I'll try to post the next chapter tomorrow


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the sex chapter. If reading about sex makes you uncomfortable, then you can skip to the break near the end of the chapter

Stark definitely knew what he was doing. No sooner had Natalia pulled off her pumps than Stark lifter her up and carried her to the bed. The silk sheets whispered against her skin; they were a luxury she would have never known in Russia.

His hands traveled under her skirt, fingers curling around her hips and roughly pulling her body against his. It was obvious her couldn't get enough of her.

Natalia had done this enough times that she knew what would come next. The clumsy removal of clothes, perhaps some fingering, then penetration. She would suffer for a few minutes until he finished. Most men didn't last very long in bed, a fact she was grateful for.

Sex made her very uncomfortable, but it was necessary for her job. And she was strong. She was the Black Widow. She could do anything.

Even this.

Stark ripped off Natalia's dress, leaving her only in her hose and slip. She felt so exposed, as if by removing her clothes he was also removing her disguise.

Of course, the thought was preposterous. Stark was far too aroused to be thinking of anything but her body.

"You are beautiful," Stark whispered breathily as Natalia unbuttoned his shirt.

And she knew it. Time and time again she had proven to be sexually appealing to men. She'd had enough experience to be confident in the bedroom despite her discomfort.

To Stark, she just said, "Shut up and kiss me."

He obliged, warm hands massaging her skin. With swift, practiced fingers, he pulled her slip over her head and then her hose down her legs.

Completely naked, Natalia knew this would be when Howard Stark saw through her deception. She couldn't possibly be more vulnerable.

But of course, Stark still didn't know. How could he?

Natalia's legs hung off the edge of the bed as Stark got on his knees in front of her. His teeth teased the delicate skin on the inside of her upper thigh, and she stiffened. What was he doing?

He sensed her newfound tension and looked up. "Has no man done this for you before?" When Natalia shook her head, he smiled and replied, "Well honey, you're in for a real treat." And he bent down again.

Now that Natalia was expecting it, she knew what to prepare for. Stark's teeth and tongue near her most sensitive parts were an unfamiliar sensation, but she adapted quickly. Arching her back and grasping his hair, it was easy to fake enjoyment.

Or so she thought. After long enough, Stark pulled back and looked up at her again. "Nothing?" he said. "This drives most girls crazy."

Shrugging, Natalia replied, "I'm hard to please."

Stark chuckled. "I can see that. But don't you worry," he added. "I take care of my girls," and he disappeared once more between her thighs.

It took much longer than Natalia would have liked for Stark to be satisfied with his performance on her, but eventually he came back up with a grin on his face. "And how was that, baby?"

Natalia hooked her fingers through the belt loops of his pants and pulled him onto her. Her lips found his neck, and she sucked at the skin there. With one hand Stark caressed her breasts; with the other he struggled to unbutton his pants.

His tongue played with her nipple as he took off his pants. He then guided her hands to his chest, then stomach, then lower. "Come on, now. Don't be shy."

She was anything but shy. Her confidence more than made up for her unarousal. Her not-too-inexperienced fingers rubbed and squeezed his member to get him hard. He moaned as she trailed kisses across his chest, his hands stroking her back, her breasts, her ass.

Suddenly she flipped them around, so that now Natalia was on top. Never breaking eye contact, she lowered herself onto him.

Penetration hurt. No matter how many times she did this, Natalia didn't think she would ever like it.

Stark, on the other hand, let out a gasp of pleasure at the sensation of being inside her. He grabbed her hips and thrusted once, twice, three times, not once noticing the pain Natalia swallowed back.

They tried several different positions, most of which Natalia had never seen before, yet ended up hating no less. Surely, she thought to herself as she lay in one of these ridiculous positions, Stark couldn't last forever.

And he didn't. At some point, deep inside her, he came. After pulling out he leaned his head against her breasts, and she held him to her.

***

"Hard to please, yet holding back," Stark muttered to himself as he tried to guess Natalia's sexual history. "No oral. Hmm." A pause. "Four? Five?"

"Mm-mm," she denied, lightly tracing patterns on his stomach with her finger. "Nine, actually."

He raised his head and looked at her, his famous Howard Stark smirk lighting up his face. "What's a pretty thing like you doing with nine men, hmm?"

Killing them would be the correct answer. But Natalia stayed quiet.

Unprepared for his next question, Natalia startled as Stark asked, "Have you ever been with a woman? No, I see. You ever thought about it? I think you might be a lesbian. And I know someone who might be interested."

The great Howard Stark was trying to set her up with someone. A woman, no less.

"She's a great dame," Stark went on. "Works at the, uh, the phone company. Name of Peggy Carter. I can get you in touch."

Closing her eyes, Natalia murmured, "That would be great."

The night could not have gone more perfectly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I also headcanon Nat as demiromantic js.

Although Stark drifted off quickly, Natalia's instincts kept her awake. Ever since she was six years old, she had been trained to stay awake if she was sharing a bedroom.

Unless, that is, the others were chained to their own beds. But even then, Natalia found it hard to sleep.

For several hours, Natalia formulated strategies, aliases, everything she could think of to bring Carter down. But Stark was helping her with - no, giving her - the hardest part. Finding Carter and gaining her trust would have been difficult. Now, it couldn't be more easy.

Around five, Stark began to stir. Natalia guessed that this was the point where he would leave so an not to deal with the aftermath of a night of fun and a girl in his bed.

Should she let him leave, and trust that he'd keep his promise and give her Carter, or should she make him stay?

It wasn't even a question. Before Stark could get up she rolled over and put her hand on his chest. "Howard?" she whispered.

"Aw, baby," he responded, holding her hand to him. "Why are you awake?"

She propped herself up onto her elbow to kiss him. Now these were the kisses she liked. Not the ones rough with passion and desire, but the sleepy ones, soft and a little messy.

Tilting his head and moving her back down, Stark kissed her back. His mustache tickled her upper lip, but the sensation wasn't terribly unpleasant.

They kissed gently for awhile, and Natalia couldn't help but wonder if this was what real relationships were like. Even if such a thing had been allowed, she had never understood why anyone would subject themselves to romance.

From what she had seen, it only ended in heartbreak and pain.

Some girls, in their early teenage years in the Black Widow program, made attempts at romance. None ever succeeded. If Madame B caught them, the girls would fight to the death, and the victor would then be hanged. Friendships were barely tolerated. Love was not.

And when Natalia graduated, there was no time for romance, and any desire she might have had for it was long gone. If sex was all it was, then she knew she wanted no part in it. But now she wondered if she was missing out on something more.

Not that it mattered, of course. It was not something that she'd ever have, so it didn't do to think about it.

What was important here was the mission and everything at stake. She needed to get to Carter as soon as was possible. And if Howard Stark could help her with that, then she'd kiss the hell out of him regardless of her feelings.

He slowly pulled away from her lips. "I'd love to stay, darling," he murmured, his face centimeters from hers, "but I can't." She moved with him as he sat up, but with a gentle hand on her stomach he pushed her back down onto the pillows. "You stay here, sleep awhile longer. I'll send someone by later to take you home."

"I don't have a home." It was both a truth and a lie, and Natalia had to act like it was hard to admit. Stark was, after all, one of the richest men in the world. And she was homeless. "Last night was my first night in New York. I have no place to stay."

Stark whistled. "I never would've guessed. Last night you looked like a million bucks." Pausing to stroke her cheek with the backs of his fingers, he then went on, "Still do."

Smiling shyly, she didn't meet his eyes.

"Tell you what," offered Stark. "I'll have Jarvis take you back to one of my properties. Remember that girl I was telling you about last night? Peggy? That's where she lives. I'll bring her by when she's done working, introduce you two."

Now, in a calculated move, Natalia met his gaze. "You'd do that for me? Thank you so much, Howard."

"Just because you're pretty," he explained. "And you're also the only lesbian I've ever slept with, and if you and Peg ever get together, maybe you'll let me watch."

If it meant she would get a step closer to completing her mission, Natalia would. From what she'd read about Carter, though, there was no way she'd allow it.

"Now," said Stark. "You go back to sleep. I'll be back later." His eyes drifted over to where Natalia's torn dress lay on the floor. "There are clothes in the closets. Take what fits you."

Natalia nodded her thanks, not daring to speak lest he change his mind. She had never expected Stark would do more than leak a few details of Carter's whereabouts. But he was going to lead her right to her.

She couldn't believe it. She was never going to believe it, even when Carter was standing right in front of her. She had never gotten this lucky on a mission before, ever. Nor would the experience ever repeat itself.

Stark got out of bed and left the room. After waiting a minute to make sure he wasn't coming back, Natalia got up too, to click the lock to the room. She did need to sleep, after all, but she couldn't if there was any possibility that someone could come in.

It was a mistake. Tired as she was, Natalia couldn't bring herself to get back under the sheets that smelled like sex. So she looked through the closets that were big enough to live in until she found enough blankets to fashion a makeshift mattress on the rug,

After a couple minutes, she forced herself asleep. She would need all her strength to complete this mission. And she only had twelve days left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I won't be able to post every day anymore :/   
> Things have been going pretty rough and it's hard for me to write   
> If I never update past this chapter it's because I killed myself ok   
> /end shouting into the void  
> Anyway hope you liked this chapter


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bad news is that I did not, in fact, kill myself. The good news is that I can still update so that's something I guess.  
> Thanks for your kind words, you're much appreciated.

"Miss? Miss?" Natalia woke to a British voice calling for her outside the door to the bedroom. "Are you in there? Miss?"

"Yes, I'm here," she shouted back, cursing herself for allowing herself to be caught off guard like this. She knew better. She should've woken earlier.

The doorknob rattled but didn't turn. "Well? Can I come in? Miss...?"

Natalia sat up, holding a sheet to her chest. "I'll be out in a minute," she answered who she supposed was Stark's butler. After a quick scan of Stark's closet and finding nothing a respectable woman might wear, still wrapped in the thin sheet, she just opened the door for the butler.

"Ah!" He immediately averted his eyes. "I'm a married man, you know, Miss..." His voice trailed off as he didn't know her name.

"Are there any closets with women's clothes?" Natalia asked him, "Clothes that I can wear around?"

Still not looking at her, the butler stuttered, "Y-yes, of course. There should be something upstairs for you."

Nodding, Natalia went off in search of a staircase, making sure not to trip over her sheet.

She was going to ruin this mission if she kept up such sloppy work. Why the hell had she left the bedroom essentially naked? So many men had seen her naked in the Red Room that such a thing didn't bother her anymore. But the average American woman? She would never willingly be seen nude by anyone other than her husband.

Far from the average American woman, Natalia knew she had to blend in better, and hope the butler never told anyone about what had happened.

She could stage an accident before he had the chance. But no, that was unnecessary. And it would certainly draw too much attention to her.

Stark's staircase was over-the-top, like everything else the man owned. It was wide enough to fit ten people standing shoulder to shoulder. The wooden banister was elegantly carved, and Natalia barely dared to touch it lest her unworthy hands damage it in some way.

The second floor was just as majestic as the first. The tall ceilings and windows that let in so much light only added to the grandeur as Natalia looked around.

Since the butler was waiting for her downstairs, she didn't have a lot of time to explore the rooms. It didn't matter much, though, as Stark wasn't the mission. Besides, the lack of personal items and the coating of dust on the shelves told her that he didn't stay here too often, although there must be a maid who came in to clean every once in a while.

Picking a room at random, Natalia checked the closet. A quick glance at the rack of nearly identical men's suits, and she closed the doors again in favor of something more suitable.

Soon enough she found a button-up blouse and a knee length skirt. It would do just fine until she could get clothes of her own.

She rejoined the butler downstairs, but not before taking a quick peek into every room to make sure she hadn't missed anything important. From what she saw, she hadn't.

The butler was waiting for her at the bottom of the staircase, his back turned to her in case she was still wearing only the sheet.

"Are you clothed, miss?"

"Yes, I am." As he turned around Natalia held out her hand. "Natalie Rushman."

Taking her hand in his, the butler introduced himself as Edwin Jarvis. "Mr. Stark has instructed me to take you to the residence of Miss Carter and Miss Martinelli."

Natalia nodded. "He told me he'd introduce me to some Peggy girl."

Jarvis smiled, escorting her to the door. "Yes. Miss Carter is quite something. I imagine you'll quite like her, Miss Rushman." He locked the door to Stark's mansion as they left, then turning to help her down the stone steps that led from the front door to the street. When they got to the car, far nicer that any Natalia had ever seen in Russia, Jarvis opened the passenger door for her.

Of course, this was a luxury that Natalia hated, She had been taught to never rely on anyone for help, ever. Even for simple things like walking down stairs or opening a car door. Anything that could be done, Natalia could very well do it herself.

But while undercover in America, she had to live with the service that many Americans must wish they could afford.

As Jarvis drove in silence, Natalia was left to reflect on how her life had turned out. Her years with Leviathan as the Black Widow had taught her that her life was worth nothing as an ordinary woman. Natalia Romanova was nothing. As the Black Widow, though, her life had a purpose, and she had a mission.

The question remained, however, if she was meant to be the Black Widow. Was she meant for greatness, or did she deserve no more than the life of Natalia Romanova? Another name, another face, soon dead and forgotten?

Nonsense. Natalia almost said the word aloud, as if hearing it would make it easier to believe. If she was not meant for this, then she would not be here now. All she had to do was stop thinking about it and accept her place in the world: Black Widow, a cog in the machine that was Leviathan.

A short while later, Jarvis stopped the car in front of a building almost as lavishly decorated as the one they had just left.

"Here we are, Miss Rushman." His words jolted her out of her thoughts - for the better, she knew. It didn't do to dwell on such things.

Jarvis exited the car and quickly walked around to her side to open the door for her. "Miss Carter and Mr. Stark are not home yet," he told her. "And I believe Miss Martinelli is working today as well."

"So it's just us until they get back."

Nodding, Jarvis escorted her up to the front door. He then unlocked it and held it open for her.

Natalia stepped inside, Jarvis close behind her, to wait for Stark and Carter's return.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you beautiful people are having a good day :)

They waited for hours. Jarvis made lunch around 1:00. Although the meal was good, some French dish she'd never heard of, Natalia could barely force herself to eat. She was much too impatient for Stark and Carter to return so she could explore more than just the magnificent three rooms Jarvis permitted her to see.

"Miss Rushman, you shouldn't go through others' belongings. You don't live here yet, you know."

But an SSR agent didn't keep her most valuable secrets in the drawing room.

Occasionally Jarvis tried to make conversation, and even though Natalia engaged she would have much rather spent the time in silence. He would ask her about Natalie Rushman, and she would try to steer the topic back to him and his wife.

So far, she had told him that she was from Chicago. Her mother was dead and her father was a greedy old bastard. She wanted to audition for a dance company; he wanted to marry her off to a rich family friend. So she had left. Taken the train to New York to start over.

With no money to her name, Natalie was lucky that she had run into Howard Stark when she did, and even luckier that he was helping her out.

"Mr. Stark does have a weakness for beautiful women," was all Jarvis said to that.

Throughout their conversation, Jarvis didn't let slip any detail that Natalia didn't already know about Stark or Carter. He made an excellent butler, she had to admit.

At six o'clock on the dot, Jarvis stood up from his chair and said, "I suppose I shall make dinner now. What would you like, Miss Rushman?"

Natalia shrugged. "Anything is fine."

"Very well then." Jarvis nodded and left for the kitchen.

Without getting up from her own chair, Natalia scanned the room for what must have been the twentieth time. But of course nothing had changed.

Elaborate rugs adorned the floor; expensive paintings, the walls. Crimson furniture was arranged in an arch facing the gray stone fireplace. On the mantle were several framed articles clipped out of the newspaper. A crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, casting the room with warm, friendly light. The windows on the wall adjacent to the fireplace gave a pleasant view of a well-kept garden. Side tables behind the sofa were bare except for today's newspaper and a pencil for the crossword.

Nothing here told Natalia anything useful. The room, though somewhat empty, was well taken care of. There wasn't a speck of dust out of place. It was perhaps the drawing room of a woman who had something to hide. Natalia would fit right in.

The telephone rang, and immediately Jarvis called out, "I'll answer it." And so he did, and after a few minutes of quiet conversation that Natalia couldn't quite make out from where she sat, Jarvis hung up.

"Miss Carter and Mr. Stark will arrive in twenty minutes," he informed her, standing in the doorway between the drawing room and the dining room. "Miss Martinelli will not be joining us tonight. She has a callback for an audition."

Natalia nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Jarvis," she said as he turned back to finish cooking.

This Martinelli girl, who was she? A dancer, or an actress possibly. A friend of Carter's. Did she know about Carter's work with the SSR? Or was she only fed the lie of the phone company?

Either way, Natalia would not find out tonight.

***

The four of them sat around the table in the dining room. The rectangular, solid oak table could easily fit twenty people, and so most of the chairs were unused. Stark sat at the head of the table, Carter on his right and Jarvis next to Carter. Natalia sat on Stark's left, somewhat uncomfortable facing both Carter and Jarvis. But she didn't let it show.

They made small talk for awhile, talking about the weather, baseball, even the soup that Jarvis had made for them. But the conversation was tense.

Until, that is, Carter asked in her crisp British accent, "Howard, would you care to introduce us properly?"

"Sure, Peg," said Stark. Turning to Natalia he continued, "Now this fine lady here is my friend, Peggy Carter. Peggy, this is, ah..."

"Natalie. Natalie Rushman." Natalia leaned around Stark to meet Carter's eyes. "It's a pleasure to meet you." There had been no time for proper introductions before now - Carter had washed up immediately upon arriving home, and then Jarvis had set the table for dinner.

Carter smiled politely. "The pleasure is mine, I'm sure." To Stark she said, "The next time you want to introduce someone to me, you might learn her name first."

"Ah, sorry Peg," smirked Stark. "You see, her name wasn't exactly the first thing on my mind last night."

Rolling her eyes, Carter scoffed, "You are ridiculous, Howard."

He shrugged, and pleasant conversation resumed, much less awkward than before. Carter asked Natalia a few questions about her past. She gave her the same story she had Jarvis.

"Where does your father work?" asked Carter.

It was a lie that Natalia hadn't thought of yet, but a reply flowed easily off her lips. "He's a butcher. Co-owns a deli with his friend."

"Surely that doesn't make that much money," mused Carter aloud, observant as always. "I mean no offense, of course," she added. "But I'm afraid it doesn't quite add up."

Smiling, Natalia nodded. "No, you're quite right, Peggy," she replied. "They make most of their money selling T." She brought two fingers to her lips, miming smoking a joint.

Stark leaned in closer to her. "Is it good stuff?" he asked her quietly. "And do you think you can get me some?"

"Howard!" scolded Carter.

Guiltily he fidgeted back in his chair.

Soon enough, Jarvis drove Stark back to his own residence, leaving Natalia alone with Carter. Her mission turned the radio on, and various hosts' voices filled the background as the two women stayed up, chatting.

After a short while, Carter announced that she was tired and would like to go to bed. She showed Natalia to her room and bade her good night.

It was obvious she didn't trust her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Best part of the story imo is Howard asking Nat for weed  
> Thanks for reading :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a midterm (that I'm definitely studying for pssh what are you talking about) so here's the next chapter

Natalia hated this. She wanted nothing more than to move the dresser in her hew bedroom to barricade the door. But she couldn't. She had to make Carter trust her, and what better way to start than by making it seem like she herself trusted Carter?

Of course, with the door as good as wide open, Natalia couldn't sleep. Her learned paranoia and the creaks of the house kept her wide awake. So she heard everything.

Around 3, Carter got up to use the restroom. Around 5, when the sky began to get lighter, the first birds awoke and started to sing; Natalia had noticed quite a few different species of sparrow in the city. And about half an hour later Carter woke up to get ready for work.

The shower turned on; soon after, off again. Natalia imagined her mission's morning routine. She would shower, curl her hair, apply makeup, iron her dress, cook breakfast, and then head out.

It was much different than any routine Natalia had ever had. And once again she found herself thinking of the life that might have been hers.

Luckily, only a short while into this fantasy, she heard Carter pick up the telephone. And she had half a second to make a decision - should she, or should she not, pick up and listen in on the line in her own bedroom?

Somehow, she knew that Carter would figure out that she listened in. But new information was worth it.

Before the call connected Natalia was out of bed and across the room, telephone receiver in hand. She barely dared to breathe lest Carter hear her.

"Hello?" a female voice with an American accent answered.

"Angie, it's me," said Carter.

"English, hi," the other girl, Angie, sounded pleased to hear from Carter. "Why are you calling so early?"

There was a barely noticeable pause before Carter replied with a question of her own: "Angie, when's your flight back home?"

"I have to be at the airport in twenty minutes, why?"

Carter swallowed. "We have a new roommate. Some stray Howard picked up off the street the other night."

Was Carter baiting her? Natalia was anything but a random stray, but now was not the time to defend herself.

"Oh?" Angie sounded interested. "Is this the girl Edwin mentioned yesterday evening?"

"Yes. She said her name was Natalie. She seems... nice."

"Well, thanks for calling, English." Natalia could hear a smile in the American's voice. "I'd better go. I'll be home when you get back from work. And I guess I'll meet this new girl."

"Goodbye, Angie."

Natalia made sure to hang up first, in case Carter held onto the line a little longer and discovered she'd been listening in.

Just a couple minutes later, there was a knock at the door to Natalia's bedroom. Quiet at first, then louder. Then, the knob turned and the door opened. Soft footsteps led inside.

"Natalia?" whispered Carter. "Natalie."

Rolling over under her blankets, Natalia groaned softly, "Peggy? What's going on?" It wasn't hard to act sleepy.

Carter tiptoed closer to the bed, standing beside Natalia's pillow. "I'll be leaving for work soon," she said, still trying to be quiet even though there was no real need. "And I called Angie, the girl I live with. She'll be home in a few hours, and she knows you're here."

"Mm hmm." Of course, Natalia already knew this.

"I made breakfast, you can heat it up when you wake up," Carter went on. "I'll be home for dinner, don't worry about that."

"Mm hmm," Natalia grunted again. Was she going to tell her anything useful?

"And one more thing, I left Mr. Jarvis's telephone number in the sitting room. You can call him if you need anything."

One more "Mm hmm" from Natalia was Carter's cue to leave. Natalia waited for the front door to close before relaxing. She turned her head on her pillow and closed her eyes to finally get some sleep.

Every forty-five minutes or so, Natalia would wake herself to make sure Angie hadn't arrived yet. At 9:00 she decided to get out of bed.

Last night she'd had a bit of time to look around the bedroom. It was almost as big as the entire dormitory of the Red Room. But instead of several rows of cots, there was one large, comfortable bed pushed against the back wall. This room had windows, furniture, carpeting.

Memories of the Black Widow program flooded her mind. From age six Natalia had lived in an immaculate room. Metal cots bolted to the floor were perfectly arranged into rows and columns, not a bunk out of place. There were no personal possessions to be found. The sheets and pillows were white, the windowless walls were white, the ceiling was white, the cold tile floor was white. There were lights set into the ceiling, giving the room a harsh white glow. Everything was sterile and white.

It was absolutely terrifying. But Natalia had learned to master fear.

The bedroom in Howard Stark's house was entirely different from her old dormitory, and she was able to blink the unwanted images out of her eyes.

Not only was the bedroom itself an obscene size, but the attached bathroom was just as bad. The tile floor was white marble; the walls, counter tops, and fixtures were white as well. But, thankfully, it lacked the sterility of her old bedroom. Blue light shades cast the room in a peaceful glow. The shower curtain was also blue, and there were even paintings on the walls.

Art, in a bathroom. Such frivolities were absurd.

There were several different soaps and shampoos to choose from in the cabinet under the sink. Natalia took a quick bath and wrapped herself in one of the fluffy towels she'd found. Next she hunted down clean clothes in her new bedroom's closet.

She was looking around the kitchen for something to eat - something Carter couldn't have poisoned - when a key turned in the lock and the front door opened.

Now, Natalia supposed, it was time to meet Carter's friend and her new roommate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love talking about Natasha's past and making stuff up about her training. She has a very rich characterization and I hope I do it justice


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter for all you wonderful people :)

A pretty woman with light brown hair entered as Natalia headed for the foyer. "Hi!" she said when she saw Natalia. "You must be Natalie."

Nodding, Natalia faked a smile. "And you must be Angie. Peggy told me you'd be coming home today."

Angie smiled too, curls bouncing as she came inside. Jarvis followed, carrying two suitcases. He greeted Natalia with a nod. "Good morning, Miss Rushman." He put down the suitcases to close the door, and then picked them up again to carry them to Angie's room.

This left Natalia alone with the other girl. Ever so friendly, Angie reached out to touch her arm and asked, "So what's your story? English didn't tell me anything."

"Oh, um." Natalia licked her lips and looked down at her feet. "There's not much to tell, really. I ran away from my father to try to make a name for myself here."

Angie shook her head, taking a step closer to Natalia. "Come on. You're going to need to tell me more than just that. I want to hear everything."

Natalia raised an eyebrow. "Everything."

With an earnest smile Angie nodded and repeated, "Everything."

The two of them sat down in the drawing room, Natalia in the cushy armchair next to the fireplace and Angie across from her. Ever smiling, Angie took a breath. Before she could speak, Jarvis entered the room.

"Ladies," he said, giving each of them a respectable nod. "If that will be all, I'll be going. You may call me should you require my services. A good day to you both."

As he left, Angie called after him, "Goodbye, Edwin." Turning back to Natalia, she said, "Now. Tell me everything."

By the end of the afternoon, Natalia had made up thousands of small detail about Natalie Rushman and her old life. Angie even started calling her Chicago.

"Tell me about your life," Natalia asked Angie for what felt like the hundredth time. Each time before this Angie hadn't answered, instead asking more about Natalie.

This time, though, the other girl agreed. "It's not as interesting as yours," she began. "I've lived in New York my whole life. I was a waitress for awhile. I've just started getting a few acting roles."

"So you're an actress." It confirmed what Natalia had guessed last night.

Angie nodded, though her smile was hesitant. "I'm trying to be."

"Do you have an actor boyfriend?" Natalia wanted information from this girl. Acting like the average American woman was the only way.

She wasn't surprised when Angie shook her head no. "Have you ever met an actor?" she said. "They're all so dramatic. Besides, I'm not looking for a boyfriend."

Natalia tilted her head, letting her expression ask her next question.

Angie looked around, even though she must have known that no one else was there. Leaning forward in her chair, she said quietly, "Promise not to tell?"

"My lips are sealed," Natalia assured her.

"I like girls," confessed Angie. "All boys are so dramatic, and girls are so pretty." Glancing around once more, she went on, "English and I tried dating for a couple months, about a year ago. I love her to death, but it didn't work out."

"I'm sorry," said Natalia.

Angie shrugged. "I'll find the perfect girl someday."

"Peggy didn't tell you the real reason why Howard brought me here, did she." A smirk grew on Natalia's face. Maybe Carter herself didn't know. No, that wasn't right. Stark must have told her.

"What?" said Angie. "I thought he just felt sorry for you, since you have nowhere to live and all. Is that not it?"

Shaking her head, Natalia chuckled. "Two nights ago, I ran into Howard at a club," she said. "He took me home. We had sex."

"I assumed," replied Angie. "English told me you were a friend of Howard Stark's. And the whole world knows that he's never going to just be a friend to a pretty woman like you."

"Right," agreed Natalia, slightly caught off guard - did the other woman just call her pretty? - but continuing on, "Well. He thinks I'm a lesbian. That's why he introduced me to Peggy. He wants us to date." After a short pause she added, "And to watch us in bed."

"You won't have much luck with English," Angie confided in her. "Not if you want an easy lay. She goes slow. Believe me."

Natalia shrugged. "I've never been with a woman before. Slow would be good."

"You've never been with a woman?" Angie echoed incredulously. "But you've been with men?"

"Yeah. Well, I never really dated," Natalia told her. "My father picked men to take me out. He'd give them money to take me to the pictures. We wouldn't go. He'd drive us out somewhere private. We'd have sex in the backseat. Then my father would find out and I'd never see the same man again. I built up a bit of a reputation."

Raising her eyebrows, Angie said, "But if you liked girls, why would you go out with all those men?"

"My father," she explained. "He would only let me see men. And only the men he picked out."

"I see why you left, Chicago." When Natalia nodded, Angie went on, "Will your father find out you're here?"

Natalia shook her head. "I left a note telling him I was going west," she replied. "Los Angeles. If he goes looking for me, that's where he'll be."

"Clever."

"Nobody knows me out here," continued Natalia, looking out the window behind Angie. "I could be anybody, not just the slut whose daddy sells reefer. Now, I can control who I become."

"And we'll help you do it," Angie finished for her. "Look, Chicago, Peggy can be a little prickly at first. A lot of people have tried befriending her only to stab her in the back."

She must be talking about Dottie. If there were others, they weren't Leviathan. Or at least not Black Widows. "I have no intention of doing the same."

"I know, Chicago," said Angie. "She'll come around eventually. Don't worry."

"Thanks." Natalia smiled.

The two fell into a silence. Natalia couldn't decide if it was awkward or amiable. She settled on awkward when Angie blurted out suddenly, "You're really pretty, you know."

Was the other woman trying to flirt with her? She hadn't planned for this, but if she could get Angie to fall in love with her, then Carter would have to trust her, or pretend to at the very least. "So are you," Natalia responded honestly.

Angie got up from her chair and slowly walked over to Natalia. She took her face in her hands and whispered, "Is this okay?" Natalia nodded, and Angie brought their lips together.

After a moment, a voice interrupted them. "Really, what are you two doing?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I didn't mean for that kiss to happen. But then it did so I'm just going with it. (I also had to edit the tags, but the more lesbians the better)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gets a little confusing when three people use the same pronouns...

Pulling back from Natalia's lips, Angie winked at Carter and said, "I'm just welcoming Natalie to New York, English."

"Well between you and Howard I'm sure she feels quite welcome." Carter set down her briefcase and took off her shoes. "I take it you two were too busy to make dinner?"

Both Natalia and Angie nodded. "Sorry, English," said Angie. "Here, I'll cook tonight. You can rest."

Carter nodded, taking the seat Angie had left to kiss Natalia. Angie let her hand linger on Natalia's shoulder as she left the drawing room for the kitchen.

When she was out of earshot, Carter said, "So. You and Angie."

"Sorry," Natalia apologized defensively. "I didn't mean to, it just happened and-"

"Don't worry about it," Carter interrupted her, chuckling. "Angie hasn't had a girlfriend in months. She's been rather mopey lately. You'll do her good."

This was not at all the response Natalia had expected from her. At best, she was expecting a warning to stay away from her friend; at worst, a physical disagreement that ended in one of their deaths. And Natalia couldn't imagine explaining that to Angie.

In response to Carter, Natalia just smiled and nodded. "Thanks, Peggy. I probably won't be a very good girlfriend, though."

"Yes, Howard told me you've never been with a girl before," replied Carter. "But Angie's rather easy to please. Trust me."

Nodding again, Natalia asked, "Does Howard share every detail of his sex life with you?"

"Heavens, no." Carter's lip curled almost imperceptibly. "I prefer not to know such things."

"Unless he's trying to set you up with her."

"Yes, that sounds about right."

"He hasn't done this often, has he?" Natalia remembered that Stark had told her that he hadn't slept with a lesbian before her.

Carter lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "He's tried a few times, yes. Mostly when he wants to return a favor. You're the first I've met."

"I'm honored."

Angie called from the kitchen, "Sorry I stole your girlfriend, English!"

Carter laughed at that, the first genuine laugh Natalia had heard from her. "At least I don't need Howard's help to find a date."

"I'm not sure about that, English," teased Angie, drying her hands with a towel as she came to stand in the doorway. "Which of us is single, now?"

The friendship between the two women went deeper than Natalia had originally assumed. Perhaps Angie did know that Carter really worked at the SSR. It wouldn't surprise her at this point. Their relationship was like none Natalia had ever seen.

This mission was full of firsts. And, most likely, lasts.

"Angie, really."

"Relax, English," said Angie. "I know all about the men at work."

"Then you'll know that I hit them if they so much as look at me," responded Carter. She said it jokingly, for Natalia's benefit no doubt, but knowing what she was capable of, Natalia wouldn't be surprised.

Calling over her shoulder as she walked away, Angie replied, "Well, then it's no wonder you need help getting a date."

"Oh, hush, you!"

What was it that Natalia was feeling? Was it... jealousy? No, that couldn't be right. She wasn't jealous of Carter and Angie. The Black Widow didn't feel jealous of anyone, and certainly not of a close friendship between two women. She had it all already.

Maybe Natalia Romanova would have wanted a friend. But the Black Widow had no use for one. Black Widow needed no one. Black Widow trusted no one. Black Widow didn't feel. Black Widow obeyed.

Black Widow could do great things alone. She would be remembered, glorified as a goddess of the twentieth century.

And she would love it, dammit, she had already accepted her fate. Why was she doubting herself now, after nearly fourteen years? She could do this. It was easy. All she had to do was follow her nearly fourteen years of training. It was a task that barely required any thought.

So why was she thinking so much?

"Natalie, are you alright?" Her mission's voice brought her back to her current situation.

Blinking her feelings away, Natalia nodded. "I'm fine. A little homesick," she invented. It was believable, right? "I hated Chicago, but it was the only home I've ever known."

"I'm sure you'll fit in just fine here." Carter's words and smile seemed kind, but her eyes were not. She was a good actress, but Natalia could see right through the facade.

The sooner this mission was over, the better.

"Angie will help me with that." Natalia's faked smile was much more convincing than Carter's, she knew. If she had learned anything in the past fourteen years, it was that she had to be good at pretending.

And she was. She was the very best. Hell, maybe she, not Angie, should be the actress.

"What'll I help you with?" Coming back from the kitchen once more, Angie dramatically flopped down onto the couch.

"Adjusting to the move," explained Natalia. "Living in New York."

Angie smiled, a genuine smile. It was a good thing she wasn't a part of the world of espionage - she'd be dead within minutes. Too trusting. "Of course I will, Chicago," she agreed. "So will English. Right, Peggy?"

"Yes, of course."

The three women chatted until the timer for the oven beeped. Then Angie leapt up to finish up with the cooking.

Her chicken breasts and steamed vegetables were some of the best Natalia had ever tasted. But she suspected that that was because she had grown up on beans and stale bread, and not because Angie was a great cook.

She appreciated it all the same. The other woman even tried apologizing to her: "I'm sorry, this probably isn't as good as you're used to, your father being a butcher and all that." But Natalia assured her that her cooking was fine.

After dinner, Angie flipped through the day's newspaper to the crossword. She read the clues aloud, and Natalia and Carter helped to fill them in.The three of them were having a swell time, especially Angie, who didn't have to pretend, until the phone rang.

Carter excused herself to answer it. When she returned, with a serious expression, she told them, "I'm sorry. I have to go in to work. There's a bit of an emergency."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm almost done with the next chapter, I should have that posted by the end of the weekend.  
> As always, thanks for reading :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy this next chapter and have a lovely week :)  
> Also I didn't expect people to actually like this? So thank you all so much for reading, it means a lot.  
> Y'all are awesome

Carter left in a hurry, with vague mutters about when she'd be back. Natalia wondered if Angie was going to kiss her again, but she just kept asking for help on the crossword. Soon enough, Natalia asked her, "Peggy works at the phone company, right? What kind of emergency can there be?"

Angie waited perhaps a second too long before replying, "Oh, it happens a lot, Chicago. They, um, they must be understaffed again. And she gets paid overtime."

So she did know about Carter's work at the SSR, there was no doubt about that now. Natalia nodded, acting like she believed Angie. The other woman was a terrible liar.

"Fifty-nine across - Civil War general," read Angie. "Seven letters. Ends with N. You know this one, Chicago?"

The Black Widow program didn't quite prioritize traditional education, much less American history. "No idea, sorry," said Natalia. "History wasn't exactly my best subject in primary school."

"Alright, how about sixty-one across, petty crime?" When Natalia didn't answer, Angie looked up at her.

Natalia's lips were twisted into a smirk, her eyes unabashedly meeting Angie's. "So are you going to kiss me again or what?"

"I - I mean, yeah, if you - if you want." Angie scooted along the couch cushions closer to Natalia. She took her face in her warm, pale hands, and their lips met.

Gentle at first, Angie kept pulling away to ask if this was okay, or if she was moving too fast. But Natalia was okay with all of it. She couldn't let herself feel anything for Angie, but while it helped her mission there was no harm in enjoying the touch. Besides, the other woman was much better at kissing than any of the men Natalia had ever been with, even Stark. Her lips were softer, technique more refined.

And she wasn't just trying to fuck her, unlike all of the men. Whatever Natalia's intentions, Angie had made hers clear. She wanted a relationship, one with trust and doing the crossword puzzle together and dancing to the radio on Sunday mornings and eventually sex but she could wait until Natalia was ready, she just wanted to be with her.

Of course, none of that would be possible, but Angie didn't have to know that. All Natalia had to do was act like it was, and then disappear when her mission was completed.

Or maybe it would be for the better if she never got involved with Angie at all.

No, that wouldn't do. She needed her to gain Carter's trust. If Angie liked her, then Carter would have to accept her. And she had to do it fast, since she only had eleven days left to complete the mission.

Natalia jumped back when the telephone rang again. The corners of Angie's mouth twitched in humor, and she said, "That's probably English." She got up from the couch and went to the dining room to answer the call.

Odd. There was a phone in the sitting room that Angie could have used. Why didn't she? Because the emergency was with the SSR, and Angie was still trying to keep it a secret from Natalia. Little did she know.

Soon, Angie came back to sit beside Natalia on the couch. "Was it Peggy?" asked Natalia.

The other woman nodded. "She's going to have to stay there overnight."

"Will she be okay?"

Angie nodded again. "Her boss has got a couch and extra blankets," she told her. "She's had to sleep there before, she'll be fine."

"And she trusts her boss?" Natalia knew all about Carter's relationship with Daniel Sousa, but if she didn't act concerned, Angie might start to wonder.

"Of course," replied Angie. "He's a good man. They've worked together for years. And she wouldn't stay there if she didn't trust him not to hurt her."

Natalia nodded. "Will she be home in the morning?"

Angie merely shrugged. "She'll be gone until they don't need her anymore. She'll call in the morning to let us know what's going on."

Yawning, Natalia stretched and mumbled, "Alright."

"Tired? Let's go to bed," suggested Angie. Then, realizing how that must have sounded, she blushed and hurriedly amended, "I mean, sleep. Let's go to sleep. I mean-"

Natalia laughed and put her hand on Angie's shoulder. "I know what you mean. And yes, let's go to sleep." She hoped Angie wouldn't want to share a bed tonight. She needed more sleep than she had been getting.

But she didn't have to worry. They kissed goodnight just outside Natalia's room, then, with a shy smile, Angie left for her own.

Once inside her room, Natalia pulled off her shirt and used the sleeves to tie the handles of the double doors together. She didn't like it much, it would be fairly easy to get past, but it would have to do for now. It was better than nothing, at least.

Changing quickly into pajamas she found in the wardrobe, Natalia crawled under the sheets of her unmade bed. She yawned again as she pulled the blanket over her shoulders. She couldn't let it show before, but now it didn't matter. She was exhausted.

The Black Widow was human, after all. She needed to eat and sleep just like ordinary people.

And so she let herself fall asleep.

A metal gurney draped in a white cloth. Six men dressed all in black, from their boots to the masks that covered the lower half of their faces. Her instructors, a tall stern woman and a man with long hair and a metal arm.

A cold breeze, a shiver. A cold voice, a shudder.

A mistake. Don't show your emotions. Don't.

A slap. A sting. You know better than that. She knew better than that.

She was better. She was the best. She had proved herself. She alone had survived. She alone was graduating. There were two dozen. Now there was only her.

She remembered. She remembered. She didn't want to remember.

She was no longer Natalia Romanova. She was the Black Widow.

She was crying. Don't show emotion. Don't. Show. Emotion. She was crying. She cried. She was crying.

Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Just breathe. You're fine. She was fine. She was awake.

Dammit. She hadn't had the nightmare in months. Could she keep doing this? Of course she could. She would even if she had the choice. She was the Black Widow. Black Widow didn't feel - she obeyed.

And she knew what she had to do. Kill Carter. Complete the mission. Then vanish as if she had never been there.

Ten days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Natasha is my baby and I'm so sorry for doing this to you (but not really because then there would be no story)


	12. Chapter 12

Natalia stiffened at the knock on her door. Did they find her? How? She still had time. She had never failed them. They never gave second chances. What did she do?

"Chicago, it's me," called Angie from outside the room. "I made breakfast and tea. Do you want some?"

At the sound of her voice, Natalia let out the breath she'd been instinctively holding. Of course her superiors weren't after her yet. How could she have assumed such a thing?

Thank god it was only Angie. So why was she still on edge? Angie couldn't hurt a fly.

"I'll be down in a minute," Natalia replied to her.

"Alright. I'll set out a plate for you." Her footsteps faded as she walked away.

Natalia could breathe again. It wasn't Leviathan. She was safe. For now.

She rolled out of bed and headed for the washroom. Cold water washed the sweat from her face and hair. Emotions were a weakness. Don't show emotions. Don't show weakness.

You're better than that. You're stronger than that.

But Natalia couldn't shake off the feeling that maybe she wasn't meant for this. Maybe she was only meant to be Natalia Romanova, not Black Widow. After all, there were other girls, there would always be other girls, better and stronger than her.

Girls who could lure a man into her trap with a single look. Girls who could torture and kill a dozen at a time with no remorse. Girls who didn't feel. Girls who obeyed. Girls who were machines.

This was the life of the Black Widow. And though Natalia had no doubt that she was stronger than women like Carter, she was beginning to wonder who was better.

It didn't matter, she told herself as she wrung her hair out with a towel. She was the Black Widow, not an SSR agent, and she had her orders.

Orders which she fully intended to carry out.

Natalia found Angie in the sitting room, cup of tea in one hand and pencil in the other. She was trying to finish the puzzle from the night before. Looking up as Natalia entered, she said, "There's food for you in the kitchen, Chicago. Bring it in here and help me out with this."

One day was barely enough time for Natalia to get used to the layout of the excessively large residence. She nearly got lost on her way to the kitchen, where she found a plate of scrambled eggs and diced fruit sitting next to a fork and a steaming cup of tea. Natalia picked them up and carried them back into the sitting room.

Angie's teeth were playing with the tip of the pencil eraser as she struggled to come up with the answers to the clues. Natalia helped where she could, between bites of eggs, but since most of the questions were about American affairs, she didn't know many. Hopefully Angie wouldn't catch on.

It didn't seem like she noticed anything suspicious. She was only an actress, not a trained spy. Still, she must have picked up a few things from living with Carter. And if she was a good actress, maybe she could hide information from Natalia after all.

The two women finished the puzzle around eleven o'clock. "What do you want to do now?" Angie asked Natalia. "I could show you around the city. We could see all the sights."

Natalia didn't see how it would help her mission at all. She didn't need to see the whole city, just enough of it to find Carter and kill her. Nor was it necessary to bond more with Angie, as they had already done so with the crossword.

The question was, would it look suspicious if she refused? Angie was under the impression that Natalia would be living with them in New York for quite some time. Shouldn't she want to become familiar with her new home?

But what good was seeing monuments like the Statue of Liberty? Perhaps the irony. As long as girls like Natalia and Dottie were in this country, there could be no liberty.

In the half second that all of this ran through her mind, Natalia reached a decision. "Why don't you show me around where you live?" she suggested. "If I'm going to live here I should know how to get around. We'll have plenty of time for sightseeing another day."

"Sure," agreed Angie. "Yeah, that would be fun. Where do you want to go first?"

With a small smile, Natalia shrugged. "You're the one who knows her way around the city, not me."

"I know, Chicago," replied Angie. "But what do you want to see?"

Natalia shrugged again. "Surprise me." She had learned an impressive sense of direction from her training, and although she didn't really need Angie to show her around, more time to gain her trust and survey her surroundings certainly couldn't hurt.

She imagined that Peggy had told Angie all about how she didn't trust her, most likely over the phone while Natalia was in the other room.

What if Natalia herself was the emergency? Perhaps the SSR had discovered that another Russian girl had found her way into the country. It would certainly explain why they called Carter in - she had the most experience with this, after Dottie.

But no, this was impossible. Natalia had been registered under a different name for both plane rides. Sofia Zhukova had traveled from Poland to France, and Hélène Clemont had traveled from France to America. There was nothing linking those two aliases together, nor either of them to her current alias of Natalie Rushman.

If not that, then why ask for Carter? She was a woman, the only fact the SSR seemed to consider. They consistently overlooked her, despite Carter time and time again proving herself worth ten men. Natalia couldn't help but be angry on her enemy's behalf, even though it benefited her now.

As Natalia and Angie walked around, she only half listened to the other's chatter, instead taking note of possible escape routes, be it bus, train, even hotels to take refuge in for a night or two. And this being New York City, there was no shortage of anything. It would be far too easy for Natalia to disappear in the anonymity of the millions of people that lived in the city.

"So what do you think?" Angie asked her as they walked up the steps to their current residence. "I know you haven't seen much of the city yet, but how does it compare to Chicago?"

Having never actually been to Chicago, Natalia had to quickly think of a convincing lie. "It's louder. Friendlier," she invented. "The streets are wider and the buildings are lighter colored."

"Wow." Angie clearly wasn't expecting this detailed a comparison. "Do you like it here?"

Natalia smiled. "I love it here," she told her. "I can't wait to see the rest of the city."

The front door had been left unlocked. Natalia shared a confused look with Angie; both of them remembered Angie locking it as they left. Natalia quietly pushed the door open and tiptoed in, Angie behind her, neither of them quite knowing what to expect.

They needn't have worried. Carter had come home, waiting for them in the drawing room. "I've been here for ages," she said. "I must have just missed you."

"How was work?" asked Angie. Natalia didn't miss the nonverbal communication between the two - Carter raised an eyebrow and Angie gave a slight shake of her head. No, Natalie Rushman did not know about the SSR.

"There's been a... complication," said Carter.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since the last update. I just haven't had the energy to do much of anything.

It was Carter's turn to make dinner tonight. While she was in the kitchen, Natalia cuddled with Angie on the couch. "Are you sure Peggy's going to be alright?" She didn't imagine that Angie knew much about the situation, if at all, but she was determined to get as much information as she could.

Angie nodded. "She'll be fine, Chicago," she answered. "Stuff like this has happened before. Peggy's tougher than you think. Don't worry about it."

Stuff like this has happened before. Did she mean a similar type of emergency, or merely that there had been emergencies before? Natalia couldn't ask further without sounding too nosy.

"Okay. If you're sure." Natalia rested her head on Angie's shoulder, her face touching the other's neck.

Angie let out a soft gasp. "Your nose is cold," she teased.

"I'm cold," murmured Natalia. It was a lie. She never felt cold. She had trained outside during Russian winters wearing nothing but a thin tank top and shorts. By the time she was ten years old Natalia didn't feel cold at all.

In response to her, Angie repositioned her arm around Natalia and held her tighter. "Better?"

"Yeah."

Angie was so nice. Natalia almost felt bad. She was manipulating the nicest woman in America so she could kill her best friend. God knew she didn't deserve this.

Again with the feelings. Why? She knew better. Black Widow didn't feel. Black Widow didn't care about Angie. Black Widow just wanted to complete the mission.

And Natalia was Black Widow.

So was Dottie Underwood. And although she had failed, Dottie was arguably the better Widow. She needed to be taken care of because her mission had not succeeded, but she had still obeyed her orders and didn't feel.

If not for Carter, Dottie would have succeeded. And Natalia's job was to make sure Carter couldn't interfere with any more of Leviathan's plans.

That was her mission. So how the hell did Natalia end up with a girlfriend?

No. Natalia didn't have a girlfriend. Natalia was manipulating a girl to help her complete the mission. Angie had a girlfriend. Natalia did not. Natalia didn't need a girlfriend because she was Black Widow, and Angie was not.

The difference between them was that Angie was a person, and Natalia was not. The Black Widow was a machine, a weapon. Human, yes, but not an individual.

It was better this way, Natalia tried to convince herself. Easier. Simple, with someone else pulling all the strings. Painless, without feeling any emotions of her own.

She just had to stop thinking about it and complete her mission. Once Carter was dead, Natalia would move on and forget all about Angie. For now, she just had to pretend. Pretend to love Angie, pretend to trust Carter, pretend any of this mattered to her.

Pretend none of it mattered.

Natalia was relieved when dinner was ready. It gave her something else to concentrate on - eating and mealtime conversation. Pretending to love Angie, pretending to trust Carter. It reminded her of the mission, of what she had to do. There were no maybes with Leviathan.

"Chicago is convinced that you're in danger, English," said Angie after a while. "She's asked about you so much, I'm starting to think she likes you more than me."

Carter turned to Natalia, who gave a sheepish smirk and forced a blush. "Is that so?" she said. "Well, I'll have you know I'm going to be quite alright."

"You're one of my only friends here," explained Natalia. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"What kind of complication is it?" asked Angie. Surprising. Natalia had assumed that Angie knew all about the goings-on with Carter's work. Evidently not.

It was even more surprising that Angie had asked. She knew that Natalia shouldn't know the truth about what was really happening. So why...?

Carter looked surprised too, but recovered so quickly Natalia might have thought she imagined it if she didn't know better. "Remember Dottie?" she said to Angie. To Natalia she clarified, "Dottie was a woman who lived in an apartment down the hall from us, before we moved in here a couple of years ago."

Natalia nodded. "What happened to her?" Perhaps Carter knew something that could help Natalia find her.

But Carter just shook her head. "We don't know where she is," she said. "But before she left, we found out she was a criminal. She killed people. And a man at work discovered there were more like her."

So Natalia was the emergency, after all. How in the hell did the SSR find out about her? There could be a spy for the SSR within Leviathan. But no, that was impossible, never mind unlikely. Then they would probably know it was her, and they would have taken her by now.

More likely, the spy within Leviathan was working for Leviathan, double crossing the SSR. He could then give enough information without giving away every detail. It was a good idea, although Natalia's mission had been jeopardized.

They were on the lookout for girls who just appeared out of nowhere. And as far as Carter and the SSR were concerned, Natalia had appeared out of nowhere.

Had Carter told the SSR about her? She hoped nor, but even if they had, they might not have believed her. She was a woman. And no man finds it easy to believe a woman could be right, and he wrong. Natalia imagined that must infuriate Carter to no end, but Natalia was grateful. Men's habits of overlooking pretty young women, like Natalia, gave her her powers. No one suspected her until it was far too late for them.

No one, except Peggy Carter. And that was why Leviathan needed her dead.

For now, Natalia had to eat dinner with an arm around Angie's shoulders and a fake smile on her face. She had to laugh at Carter's jokes and wash the dishes. She had to pretend she wasn't a spy and pretend that she didn't know Carter suspected that she was one.

Natalia was good at pretending. She was good at lying. She was good at killing. That was all that mattered to the Black Widow. And she had pretended. She had lied. Now she needed to kill.

Carter went to bed early that night. She claimed she was still tired from working an extra shift last night, but Natalia knew better. She wanted to avoid more questions about the girls who killed people.

But Natalia didn't need to ask more questions about those girls. She knew more than the SSR did. And killing Carter would prove them right and cause a potentially global search for her. Even so, she had no choice.

Leviathan needed her dead. And Leviathan couldn't be disobeyed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *patiently waits to die young*  
> Next chapter will be much better than this I promise guys


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are triggered by mentions of suicide, please stop reading after the page break (everyone else can ignore the break, no time passes. I just wanted to make a clear stopping point so no one would be triggered).

With barely a week left to complete her mission, Natalia had made very little progress. With Angie home she had never had the right opportunity. Luckily, Angie was leaving later today - she had received an acting role and needed to fly west, to California, for filming.

Now that Natalia was alone, Angie gone and Carter at work, she finally had the chance to explore the rooms she had not yet seen. Avoiding Carter's bedroom for now, Natalia had her first good look around the mansion.

It had been smart for the Americans to keep an eye on her, but it was only a matter of time before she was left to her own devices.

Throughout her exploration, Natalia found quite a few different ways that she might complete her mission. Cleaning chemicals she could mix together, gas pipes she could break. But she was sure that Carter wouldn't be fooled by any of these methods. Besides, the more direct the approach, the better.

Natalia had found a gun in Angie's bedroom. She guessed that Carter had insisted on leaving it there, in case there was some sort of complication. This way, Angie could protect herself in case someone came in looking for Carter. It must have been left behind because Angie would have no need for a gun while working as an actress all the way across the country from Carter.

It would be so easy to shoot Carter and blame it on someone else. Maybe some girl with short brown hair came in through a window that Natalia had opened. Maybe Natalia confronted her and was shot in the leg before finding a place to hide from her. Maybe the other girl left as soon as she shot Carter after she came home from work.

Then, maybe, Natalia would decide that New York wasn't for her, and announce that she was going back to Chicago - after all, it was silly of her to think that she could change fate.

The plan was full of holes, but it was the best that Natalia could do on such short notice. She had to act fast, before Carter and the SSR did, and she was running out of time.

She turned the gun over in her hands. It was different than the ones she was used to in Russia, but it was just as deadly.

Bit of a shame, really, that she had to kill Carter. Carter was a strong woman, a good agent. The world needed more women like her, but soon there would be one less.

Natalia respected Carter, she felt no reason to hide that. But she was also Black Widow, and she had to kill Carter in spite of her respect for her. She would not let her feelings get in the way of this task.

With the gun in her hands she felt a strange sort of power. She was the Black Widow, she could change fate. And holding that gun, it could not have been any easier.

Someone had to die this afternoon, that much was certain. And it was Natalia's choice. She was in control, playing god. There was no god, and she was the proof.

The question was, who deserved to live? The answer was painfully obvious. But Natalia didn't want to face it. She wasn't ready. This was the one thing she was afraid of.

***

Sure, she had stared down death many times before, but she was always in control of the situation. Her endeavors as Black Widow were always risky, but Natalia was always confident that she would come out on top.

Here, there was no way she could come out on top. Not if she made the right choice.

Why was it so hard to make the right choice?

Natalia closed her eyes as she held the gun to her head. All she could hear was her own breathing and her accelerated heartbeat pounding the blood through her veins as she battled every instinct she'd ever known.

A shot rang out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is probably gonna be the last update for the month. I'm going to attempt NaNoWriMo and I need to organize my ideas instead of just making shit up as I go along like what I've been doing. I do have a general idea of what's going to happen long term, but I need to get the short term specifics worked out. So have a happy Halloween y'all and I hope you liked this chapter!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well I guess I lied, here's the next chapter a couple days early. Enjoy :)

Natalia dropped her gun in shock as her eyes opened to see a bullet lodged into the wall just to the right of her head. Her mind raced as she leapt to conclusions: she hadn't fired a shot - someone else had - someone else was there - they had a gun - they were right behind her - she was about to become a dead woman.

Slowly she turned around. She should have guessed who was there.

Carter was standing in the doorway, gun still raised. As she walked closer, one smooth steady step at a time, Natalia stood and raised her hands to shoulder height.

"Do it," she dared Carter, who stopped advancing. "Shoot me. I'm better off dead anyway, you know that."

"I don't intend to kill you, Natalie," replied Carter.

"It's either you or me," argued Natalia. "It has to be one of us. I'm sure you've figured that out by now. And you're the one with the gun. Just-" she swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry "-make it quick, alright?"

Carter shook her head, but still didn't lower her gun. "I'm not going to kill you," she insisted. "I want answers."

Natalia smirked. Information would certainly be useful, but Carter was too merciful for her own good. "And if I don't talk?"

Taking another step closer, Carter said, "I'll take you to the SSR, Agent Thompson has ways of making people talk. You'll like it much better if you talk to me now, trust me."

"What do you want to know?" Keeping Carter's gaze, Natalia held her smirk. In bad situations like this, confidence was key. If you act like you're doing nothing wrong, it's far less likely that someone will accuse you of doing something wrong, or even notice that you're doing it. Tried and true.

But Natalia had already basically admitted to Carter that there was something going on - not that it really mattered at this point. Carter already knew.

"First of all, who are you, and where are you from?" When Natalia opened her mouth to reply, Carter cut her off. "And don't tell me you're Natalie Rushman from Chicago. We both know that's not true. Who are you, really?"

Carter was one step ahead, and Natalia wasn't sure why she was surprised. She could still lie, of course, she could easily come up with an alias on the spot. But what were the benefits of that? If she told the truth, the interrogation would be over faster, and Carter would shoot her sooner.

Fucking hell, Natalia was not used to being on this side of an interrogation. Not when she wasn't totally and completely in control of the situation.

"My name is Natalia Romanova," she admitted. "I'm Russian. I was born in Stalingrad."

"Are you with Leviathan?" The question she knew would come next. "Do you know Dottie Underwood? You must know her, perhaps under a different alias."

"I do serve under Leviathan, yes," said Natalia, carefully choosing her words. "I know nothing of Dottie, other than my orders to kill her because of her failed mission two years ago."

It took Carter a moment to process this new information and to think of her next question: "If you're here to kill Dottie, then why are you in New York? I imagine she's long gone."

"She's not the only woman I've been sent to kill."

A shadow of emotion fluttered across Carter's face, but she recovered before Natalia could tell what it was. "Me."

It wasn't really a question, but Natalia nodded. "Dottie was supposed to kill you," she elaborated.

"I'd noticed." Evidently deciding that Natalia wasn't going to fight, Carter lowered her gun and sat down on Angie's bed. She raised her eyebrows at Natalia and said, "Come on. Have a seat."

She couldn't have possibly gotten all the information she needed. What was she trying to do? Warily Natalia sat beside the other woman. Back straight and shoulders tense, she didn't look at Carter as she asked, "What are you going to do now?"

"That depends," was Carter's reply. "Are you going to try to kill me?" Natalia shook her head. "Are you going to try to kill yourself?" This question surprised Natalia - why would Carter care about her well-being? - but she kept her face expressionless as she shook her head.

Carter didn't say anything after that, and the two women sat together in silence. Natalia didn't let herself relax, even as Carter crossed and uncrossed her legs. This was not happening - this could not be happening - she didn't understand how she could still be alive. How she and Carter could still be alive. This was an outcome she had never considered. Because it simply was not possible.

It wouldn't be for long. Leviathan would know, and they would come for her. And then they would come for Carter. Soon they would both be dead.

"I suppose I'll have to take you to the SSR," said Carter, breaking the silence.

"You can't do that." Natalia couldn't ignore her instincts for any longer. "We'll both be killed. Leviathan will send someone else to kill us."

Carter looked sharply at her. "And how would they find out?"

"One of your agents works for Leviathan." Even though she admittedly had no proof of that, it made perfect sense. Somebody knew she was here. It was impossible to penetrate such a well-guarded machine. Not to mention that Leviathan had eyes and ears everywhere. And now that the SSR knew they were sending young women into the country, they would be far less likely to suspect a man.

"That's not possible," refuted Carter. "All of our agents have gone through a thorough background check. They have lives and families outside of the SSR."

A flicker of Natalia's smirk returned to her face. "You really think Leviathan can't get around that?" she said. "Do you know how easy it is to create a life and a past out of thin air?"

"I assure you, Natalia, that none of my agents work for Leviathan," Carter told her.

"Then how did you find out I was here?" If Leviathan had no contacts within the SSR - which Natalia seriously doubted regardless of Carter's claims - a lot was left unexplained.

"There are a few men of Leviathan here in New York," said Carter, which was not unexpected. Those men were to be Natalia's contacts, no doubt. "They communicate via radio, different frequencies every time Agent Quinn has been tasked with trying to break into the frequency. He has only succeeded a few times, but we have learned a little."

Natalia nodded. "So you heard them talking about me."

"Yes, they mentioned 'one of those girls, the black widow,'" responded Carter. "We didn't quite know what they meant by that, but I assumed there would be more girls like Dottie and the one I ran into in Russia. That was all I heard by the time he called me in, unfortunately, so we didn't know what she was supposed to do."

"Now you know."

"Now I know." After a pause, Carter went on, "What does black widow mean?"

"It's the name of the program that trains us." Natalia could have elaborated. But she wasn't ready to go on.

Carter seemed to sense that there was more to say, but didn't pry. "How would you like to join SHIELD?"

Natalia had never heard of a SHIELD before. Was it the American form of Leviathan? Because if so, she would much rather take her chances on her own. "What exactly is SHIELD?" she asked.

"Supreme Headquarters, International Espionage, Law-enforcement Division," answered Carter. The acronym was so long, Natalia wondered how many tries it had taken Carter to memorize it just right. And then she wondered how long it had taken to come up with an acronym perfectly spelling shield. "It's a project I'm working on with Howard."

"What does it do?" Natalia hadn't missed the word espionage. So far it was sounding like Leviathan for Americans, and though she'd be an asset she wanted no part in it. But if Carter was creating it... it couldn't be as unabashedly evil as Leviathan.

"It'll be similar to the SSR," she explained. "I assume you know all about that? But there will be more divisions and, well, Howard Stark will be in it so that adds a factor of unreliability." When Natalia didn't respond, Carter went on, "Think about it, will you?" Then she stood up and exited the room, leaving both guns with Natalia.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story's finally getting somewhere and I'm super excited for what's going to happen. Let me know what you think of it :D


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The internet at my school sucks, so I have to retype this because it refreshed while I was still working :/ hope you like regardless

She could still do it. Her hand glided over the sheets to touch the gun Carter had left behind. There was still hope for her. There was hope for the mission. Sure, she had told Carter that she wouldn't do it, but lying had always meant so little to her.

No. She couldn't do it. She wasn't strong enough.

Think about it, Carter had said to Natalia. But she didn't understand. Natalia was a weapon. She didn't think, she just did what she was instructed.

At least, that was what she was with Leviathan. The Black Widow was something to be manipulated, easily replaced when broken. Maybe SHIELD would be different. Carter had said it would be like the SSR. Did that mean they wouldn't train young girls to kill, like her?

She wouldn't do it. No matter what SHIELD did or didn't do, Natalia wasn't going to be a part of it. The rest of her life would be hard, avoiding Leviathan and Carter's SHIELD, but it would still undoubtedly be better than staying with either organization. If she had learned one thing from her years in the Red Room, it was that she would always be much better off on her own.

Or she could end it now. The world didn't need her in it, and she had no reason to stick around. She would never have to see the conflict resolved to the end. She, the girl who hasn't ever made a choice for herself, would never have to choose between her home and the sworn enemy that offered a second chance.

The right choice was always the hardest, and never the most obvious. All of Natalia's training in the Red Room had made her tough and strong. She could look through every shade of gray until there was nothing left but black and white. And now, she knew exactly what she should do.

But she wasn't going to do it. For the first time in her life, Natalia could make her own choice. And she chose to do the worst thing possible.

Leaving the room, a gun in each hand, Natalia walked around until she found Carter. The other woman's eyes flitted from Natalia's face, to the guns in her hands, to her face again. Then she licked her lips.

Before she could speak, Natalia tossed one of the handguns to her and said, "I'll join your SHIELD."

Carter caught the weapon with her swift reflexes, replying, "Oh, good, I didn't want to have to watch Agent Thompson beat information out of you."

"Is he in SHIELD, too?" How big could SHIELD have gotten without Leviathan noticing?

"Not yet," answered Carter. "While we're still working on organizing, only a few operations are being run under SHIELD. When it's all finished, the whole of the SSR will become part of SHIELD. But we're not quite ready for that yet."

Natalia nodded. That made sense, she supposed. "So will I be working for SHIELD or the SSR?"

"SHIELD, of course," said Carter. "You'll join a team that's working to fight Leviathan."

Team? That wouldn't do. Natalia operated on her own. She had been taught to not trust anybody, to not rely on anyone for help. Did Carter not understand that? She had never worked with anyone else in her life. She couldn't just forget a decade of training.

But this was the first choice she had made for herself - she had made it knowing it was the worst decision possible - and dammit she was determined to stand by it. Natalia would never trust Carter's team, but while they were working towards a common goal they could be potential allies.

A thought struck Natalia, and she began to seriously regret her decision. Not only was it the worst one possible, but it had become a death sentence. "When I don't report in and tell my superiors you're dead, they'll send someone else out to kill us both."

"We'll figure something out," said Carter. "I don't plan on dying anytime soon."

Natalia just nodded. It was likely that she and Carter would have to leave New York, and keep moving so Leviathan couldn't find them. She wouldn't mind it, she had never stayed in one place for too long anyhow, but Carter would be with her, and she still didn't trust the other woman.

"We'll think of something," repeated Carter, somehow sensing Natalia's doubt.

"You can't be so sure." Natalia had been with Leviathan since age six. She would know that it wasn't so easy. "What am I doing until then? Do you have to take me to SHIELD?"

Carter nodded. "Well, it will be the SSR first," she amended. "To register you as an agent. You'll have to go through orientation before I can let you work - oh, don't look at me like that - I know you've had plenty of experience with Leviathan. But SHIELD runs things differently."

How much differently could two intelligence organizations run? You do what you can to get information, and leave no evidence that you got it. Bring what you learned back to your superiors, then sit and wait for your next assignment. You're not the one pulling the strings, so there's no reason to know more than you have to. If you're captured, never let them know what you know. Don't succumb to torture, your life is worth far less than your country's. Just do as you're told and you'll be fine.

It wasn't likely that Natalia would be put in charge of anything, given her extremely recent and quite lengthy alliance with SHIELD's most powerful enemy. She was sure that as long as she was given similar assignments to the ones she'd done with Leviathan, she would be alright.

And she wouldn't complain. After all, she had made her own choice. For the first time in her life, she'd had the freedom to make the worst choice, so she was going to make the best of it.

"How long will all that take?" asked Natalia.

"Only a few hours," replied Carter. "Why, would you like to go now?"

It was still early enough in the afternoon that that wouldn't be entirely unreasonable. "Yes," agreed Natalia. "Let's go." She would do this now, before she had the chance to back out.

The two women took a taxi to the SSR headquarters. Quietly so the cab driver couldn't hear, Carter explained to Natalia, "SHIELD is too small now to have its own space. Dan- Chief Sousa gave us an office and a filing room. As we get bigger, departments of the SSR will transfer over to SHIELD."

Natalia nodded, taking it all in. The whole trip she had been looking out the window, at the people on the streets free to talk and laugh, at the tall buildings that reminded her that she would never belong here.

Soon they arrived - Natalia only knew which of the unassuming buildings the headquarters were in because of what her superiors had told her to prepare her for the mission - and Carter led her inside.

Upon first walking in, there was a row of girls connecting phone calls. Carter strode confidently past all of them to the station at the end, where a plump woman greeted her. "Who's this, Peggy?" she asked, nodding at Natalia, who had followed more slowly.

"She's an unexpected ally," replied Carter. "She'll be joining us today, I expect you'll be seeing more of her."

"Splendid!" said the woman, pressing a button on the underside of her desk.

The doors to an elevator opened up right in front of them. Carter entered, and Natalia followed. She had never been in one of these before, and she held on tightly to the handrail as they ascended. What was wrong with a staircase, where you could gauge how far off the ground you were?

When the elevator doors opened again, a couple of agents were waiting on the other side. One nodded respectfully at Carter, while the other narrowed his eyes at Natalia. "Who is she?"

"She," said Carter, not bothering to hide the annoyance in her voice, "is about to become SHIELD's newest agent. I would suggest you don't doubt my judgment, Branwell." With that she walked past them, her heels clacking on the floor, and once again Natalia was left to follow her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all should hmu on tumblr @ lets-fly-across-the-midnight-sky


	17. Chapter 17

Carter had left Natalia in SHIELD's office while she went to get the right papers from the SSR's files. There were three other agents in the room, each of whom stealing glances at her when they thought she wasn't looking. So she glanced back, unafraid of making eye contact.

Only a few minutes of this passed before all three men grew uncomfortable and started to decidedly ignore her in favor of focusing on their work. So Natalia took the opportunity to study them.

The man in the seat nearest her was blond, with broad shoulders and a stiff posture. He wore glasses to read, and frequently scratched the back of his head. He looked hopelessly easy to take in a fight. She could have killed him at the age of twelve. And she was almost twenty now.

Across from the first man sat the second. His hair was brown, and he had a lithe build. He stretched back in his too-loose suit, much more relaxed than his colleague. Again, this man would be an easy kill.

A few desks apart, the third man sat near the window. The lights on the ceiling reflected off the dark skin of his bald head. This one was hard to read. His posture, his breathing, every movement, even the glint off his wedding band seemed perfectly controlled. He would put up a good fight. Not that Natalia would lose to him, but she would rather have him on her side.

Soon Carter returned with a few papers in her hands. "Director Carter," the third agent greeted her, and she nodded back with an, "Agent Fury." Unclipping the papers and setting them down in front of Natalia, Carter handed her a pen. "I'll be just over there," she said, and pointed to the desk across from Fury. "Come and get me when you've finished, and then I'll give you your orientation."

Wordlessly Natalia took the pen from Carter and began to fill out her information. First, it needed her name. She started to write ROMANOVA, NATALIA, but then stopped. If Leviathan managed to get their hands on her file, they would know for sure that she had betrayed them and would make her death a top priority. Not to mention the shit she would get from Carter's agents for her extremely Russian sounding name.

But her name was the only thing she'd ever had that belonged to her. And it was the name her parents had given her, and all she had left of them. She couldn't forget them any more than she wanted to erase her Russian heritage.

Eventually she decided on ROMANOFF, NATASHA. It would still be a suspicious coincidence to Leviathan if they every saw SHIELD's files, but it would have to do. She couldn't use her given name, but that didn't make this any easier.

The rest of the questions didn't take long. Most were tedious, like health forms listing diseases Natasha knew nothing about. She had to leave a few other answers blank, like 'past service for the United States' and 'emergency contact,' but she figured it didn't matter. It wasn't like Carter would turn her away because of a few blanks. The paperwork was just a formality at this point.

When Natasha clipped the papers back together and stood up, Carter turned her head to look at her. Carter's gaze made Natasha feel somewhat nervous; though she didn't know why she felt that way, she made sure to hide the emotion from everyone.

Without removing the paper clip, Carter flipped through the pages, glancing over each one. She raised her eyebrows at the name change but said nothing, to Natasha's relief. "Well, now that that's done, I'll have to take you to orientation."

The blond man spoke up. "Excuse me, Director, but doesn't basic training usually come before orientation? Being a woman in this job is dangerous."

Natasha swallowed back the urge to jump over the desks and knock the hell out of him. Instead she glanced over at Carter, her new superior, to handle him.

"It's dangerous being a woman in any job," said Carter. "No thanks to men like you constantly underestimating us." Then she nodded at Natasha.

A cold smirk on her face as she headed for the blond cause his eyebrows to raise in fear. Natasha kicked the chair out from under him and caught him in a headlock as he fell. Her knee across his ankles and her breath on his ear stopped him from fighting back.

Carter continued, "At least here, if you don't treat us with respect, we can demand it."

"I can kick your ass anytime," Natasha growled in the blond's ear. "Don't make me." Then she let him up, and she and Carter left the SHIELD office.

"You certainly showed him that you don't need basic training," was all Carter said as the two walked down the hallway. She said it nonchalantly, but Natasha could tell that she was impressed.

"I could have passed your basic training before I was ten."

Carter looked at her in disbelief. "You started that young?"

She had admitted to Natasha to seeing one of the girls in the camp in Russia before. Why did this surprise her? "Younger," replied Natalia. "Most start young, others start older. They don't accept anyone older than ten into the program."

"How old were you?"

The question didn't seem relevant to her orientation, but Natasha answered anyway. "Six. I was the youngest in my class by almost two years. The other girls were all bigger, scarier." She felt the words flowing off her tongue, her untold story begging her to speak. "They picked on me a lot, and the instructors encouraged it. I would have been killed if they taught us how to fight that young."

"What did you do, if not fight?" Carter really was clueless of the workings of the Black Widow Program.

"Tie knots, build traps, escape from traps." It wasn't hard to remember. It wasn't easy to forget. "Then throwing knives, at targets. I was the best at all of that, and it made the other girls hate me more."

"And your instructors still did nothing?"

Natasha gave a dry laugh. "They wanted to know how I would react to it. They didn't like those girls any more than they liked me, but I had to prove my worth."

"At six years old." Carter shook her head in disapproval. "So what did you do?"

"Sasha was the worst of them," said Natasha. "I knew that if she stopped, the others would, too. And there was only one way I could think of to make that happen."

Carter's lips parted but she didn't speak. Was she finally beginning to understand?

"I threw my knife at her, not the target." Sasha was Natasha's first kill. Age six. And there were to be countless others after that. "It hit her right between the eyes. The rest of the girls looked at her, but the instructors yelled at them to keep practicing. So we all kept throwing our knives at our targets while Sasha bled out in front of us."

"What then?" The words came out in a raspy whisper, and Natasha noticed Carter shiver. This must have been much worse than she'd imagined.

"Then? Nothing," said Natasha. "We finished training for the day and went inside. I was praised for my accuracy and Sasha's body was left out for the wolves."

At this point, Carter was speechless. There was nothing else like Leviathan anywhere in the world. SHIELD certainly wouldn't do this, Natasha understood that now.

She couldn't help but laugh humorlessly at Carter's horror. "The other girls were scared of me after that. Some avoided me, some tried to be my friend. I wouldn't talk to any of them. In the Red Room, it was kill or be killed."

And Natasha had yet to be killed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nat and Peggy teaming up to fight sexism is like my favorite thing  
> Much love to you all


	18. Chapter 18

Orientation passed slowly, Natasha only half paying attention. Her mind was way back in the Red Room. They had had no orientation there. They were simply thrown to the wolves, sometimes literally, left to figure everything out by themselves.

Carter and one other SSR agent whose irrelevant name Natasha hadn't bothered to learn talked at her for a while, explaining different policies and protocols. They told her about some past missions and why they had failed or succeeded. Natasha's interest piqued when Carter began to talk about what she had done in 1946.

"Nobody believed me when I told them that Howard was innocent," she said. "He asked me to clear his name. I had to sneak around and keep secrets, but that was too easy, considering the men here never noticed me." With a glance at the other agent, she continued, "That's changed, thankfully. But at the time, I was racing against the SSR to learn information and figure out what was going on."

"What Director Carter is saying," the other agent stepped in with a raspy baritone voice, "is that if there was better communication between her and the other agents, we could have worked together and solved it more quickly."

Carter rolled her eyes and scoffed. "What I'm saying, Agent Warren, is that if everyone overlooks one agent simply because of her sex, it will come back to bite them in the arse," she corrected. "If I recall correctly, I made my suspicions clear to Chief Dooley. If he had listened to me, perhaps his death could have been avoided."

The other agent, Warren, looked straight ahead and said nothing. Was he one of the men who had ignored Carter while these events were taking place? Either way, he was definitely the type to be embarrassed that a woman had higher ranking over him.

Carter looked at Warren again. "I think we've covered everything," she continued, and he nodded. "Welcome to SHIELD, Agent Romanoff."

"Romanoff?" repeated Warren. "Is she Russian?"

Natasha glanced at Carter, who gave her the go-ahead to handle him. She stood up from her chair. "My name is Agent Natasha Romanoff. I was born in Russia. I was trained in Russia. I chose to join SHIELD. And if you question where my loyalties lie, I'll-" she stopped speaking and looked again at Carter. In the Red Room, Natasha had fended for herself. At SHIELD, there were protocols for this. "I'll tell my commanding officer, and even though she won't give me permission to beat the shit out of you-" the corners of Carter's lips twitched, and Natasha amended, "in the case that she doesn't let me beat the shit out of you, she'll do... something. Whatever protocol you have for that."

Warren scoffed. "Little thing like you can't beat the shit out of me if I stood here and let you."

"Want to test that?" The man was taller and at least twice her weight, about twice her age too. She could snap his neck in her sleep. If she proved to him that she could, in fact, beat the shit out of him, would Carter kick her out of SHIELD? Probably not - she'd just let her join - but she would definitely disapprove.

SHIELD was the exact opposite of Leviathan. Back in Russia, you resolved conflicts on your own. Whatever you had to do, you did it. If you had to kill someone, well, she was too weak to make it and it was her fault. There were no repercussions as long as you survived and did what you were told.

Here, though, she was going to have to get used to not reacting to people like Warren. It was going to be hard. Natasha was an assassin, not an American.

"Would you like to meet your new colleagues, Agent Romanoff," said Carter, attempting to soften the tension in the room. "I promise they're not all like him."

Natasha nodded, though she didn't really want to talk to anyone.

Together they left the small orientation room, Warren following a couple meters behind. Carter led Natasha to the main SSR office, where quite a few agents, all men, were working. And all of them looked up when they entered the room. "This is SHIELD's newest agent, Natasha Romanoff," Carter introduced her.

Natasha didn't miss any of the agents' frowns or titters. Did they react this way to every new agent, or was it just because she was Russian, and a woman?

Carter wasn't going to let her coworkers disrespect Natasha like that, even though she didn't trust her much, either. "Excuse me," she said, sounding exasperated. "Agent Romanoff deserves better than that. She is an agent, and your equal. Damn you all, act like it."

"It's someone's time of the month."

While Carter scanned the room, looking around for who had spoken, Natasha had already pinpointed the voice and jumped across the desks to him. Scattered papers settled on the floor as Natasha slammed the agent's balding head on his desk and held him there with an elbow to the neck.

"Apologize," she snarled.

"Agent Romanoff, really-" said Carter. "Let him go."

Natasha applied more pressure to the man's neck but released him after just a couple seconds. "My apologies, Director Carter," she said over the man's sputtering breaths.

As she walked through the aisle between the desks to rejoin Carter, the director said, "Agent Romanoff, men."

The man who had spoken out just before said, "She better be punished for what she's done to me, Carter."

Natasha met his glare through the cracked lenses of his glasses as Carter replied, "She will be given the retribution she deserves." Natasha read between the lines: nothing would be done to her. Not that it mattered. Any punishment here couldn't possibly be worse than the punishments she had already endured.

The two women walked across the room to a door marked 'CHIEF SOUSA.' Carter knocked. "Daniel?" she called.

"It's unlocked, come on in." The reply was muffled by the door.

Carter turned the handle and Natasha followed her inside. It was a private office. A dark-haired man sat at the long, single desk; a crutch leaned against it just to his left side. Shelves lined the walls, filled with books and the occasional personal item. The open window offered a view of the streets below and invited the sounds of the city inside.

"Thought you said you were done for the day, Peggy." His voice was warm. "What brings you back?"

Carter put her hand on Natasha's back - she suppressed a flinch from the touch - and pushed her forward. "This is the girl I was telling you about, Daniel," she said. "Meet SHIELD's newest agent."

Natasha stepped forward to the desk and extended her hand. The chief took it and gave a firm handshake. "Natasha Romanoff," she introduced herself. "Agent Natasha Romanoff."

"Daniel Sousa," he replied. "Chief of the SSR. It's a pleasure to meet you." To Carter he asked, "Would you two like to stay for a cup of coffee? I can have one of my men bring it in."

No. Natasha did not want to stay. She had learned to not get too friendly with any of the others she worked with, and even though she knew things were different here, she couldn't erase the past decade from her life.

But god, she wished she could.

Again sensing Natasha's discomfort, Carter said, "Sorry, Daniel, but we'd best be going. Perhaps another time."

Sousa smiled in a way that made it seem like this was something that had been said before. "Sure, Peggy. Another time."

Natasha followed Carter out of the office, down the elevator, to the streets. Another cab brought them home, and without saying another word to Carter Natasha escaped into her bedroom and closed the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Peggy and Nat teaming up in the name of feminism, the sequel


	19. Chapter 19

Five days had passed. Natasha had gone to work with Carter every day. She had three days left to kill Carter and meet her Leviathan contact. Of course, she wouldn't show, and when she didn't show, word would be sent back to Russia, and Natasha and Carter would both be ordered dead.

Carter had promised a plan, but if she had one she hadn't spoken of it. Natasha had been tasked with filing papers at SHIELD, while Carter spent most of her time in Sousa's office. According to Carter, they were working on transitioning the SSR to SHIELD - the science division was next - but they spent so much time together Natasha couldn't help but wonder what they were really doing.

When she wasn't with Sousa, Carter would ask Natasha for more information about Leviathan and the Black Widow program, but Natasha wasn't ready to share too many more personal stories. She did explain the basics of the program, some of which Carter had already put together.

Most of the time, summers were for outside training and winters were for inside. There would always be exceptions, but for the most part that was the general rule. They only learned useful things, like lying, seducing, fighting. They danced ballet en point and became fluent in six different languages. And of course, the competition bred hatred and mistrust.

The Black Widows had learned to survive at the expense of living.

The instructors, Madame B and the Winter Soldier, tried to minimize deaths, only killing when necessary. Punishments were severe, easily bordering on torture. The strong learned to endure, while the weak pled for mercy.

Mercy came in the form of a bullet to the head.

It was memories like this, of all the times Natasha had been close to death, that made it hard for her to share all she knew with Carter and SHIELD. Speaking aloud forced her to face the reality, that what she was saying had actually happened and wasn't just some horrible nightmare she'd made up.

How was it that she had survived everything Leviathan had thrown at her, but she wasn't strong enough to relive it? It had happened in the past, it wasn't real this time.

But Carter didn't push her when she stopped speaking. "Take a deep breath and drink a glass of water," she'd say when Natasha put her face in her hands. "There's plenty of time. We can start again tomorrow if you're feeling up to it."

The other agents, with the exception of Fury, weren't nearly as sympathetic. They hated her because she was Russian, and feared her because she'd been trained to kill. Natasha tried to ignore them, but it wasn't easy when they replaced her name with various curse words when Carter wasn't around. Fury never defended her, but he would occasionally glance apologetically at her.

Natasha could understand their mistrust - she felt the same about them - but it took all her willpower to not cut a slice of their ears off with the knife hidden inside her bra. It would be so easy, but though they would probably start using her name, they'd trust her even less.

She knew she should go to Carter about it. It was standard protocol, and if she knew about it she'd surely put a stop to it. But Natasha didn't need the director's help. She could handle this on her own, like everything else she'd ever done.

If only they all knew the hell she'd been through.

No, no. For their sake she was glad they didn't. It was something she wouldn't wish on anyone. Only after she'd tasted the promise of freedom and comfort did she realize just how terrible the Red Room actually was. When that was all she'd known, she couldn't understand why anyone would choose a different life.

After just a few days with no pain, she finally understood.

And she was glad she'd made this choice.

Even though her coworkers hated her, and she didn't trust any of them either, she was sure that would change. She may never trust them, and they may never like her, but she could at least earn their respect. If she ever did anything but filing.

Was this optimism? They'd been trained to avoid that, too. Always expect the worst, because nothing is more dangerous than underestimating your adversaries.

Natasha heard Carter enter the SHIELD office, so she edged nearer to the door to listen in on what she had to say to the others, the real agents.

As it turned out, Carter wanted her. "Agent Romanoff?" she called, and Natasha opened the door to the connected filing room. "Good, you're here. Finish up what you're doing, and we'll go talk to Daniel. I'll wait here for you."

Nodding, Natasha turned back into the filing room and let the door swing shut behind her. She had finished her work almost twenty minutes ago but preferred to stay alone so she wouldn't have to talk to the other agents. So she stood near the door and listened.

"What do you need her for?" That was Agent Brady, the blond agent. He hated Natasha the most of everyone because of what she had done her first day on the job. But Natasha didn't regret it - he'd deserved it.

"She has her first mission in a couple days," replied Carter. "She'll be turning Leviathan away from the SSR, for the time being."

So she must have found a solution to Natasha's meeting with Leviathan. That was good.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" Brady again. "How do you know she'd not still working for them? She could be leading them right to us. Maybe you should send someone else."

"Get your head out of your ass, Brady," the slow voice of Agent Fury cut in. "Romanoff told us what her mission here was. We all heard her. It can only be her."

"I have perfect faith in Natasha," said Carter. "And so should you, agents. If you don't trust my judgment, you're always free to leave SHIELD. You're replaceable."

"Replaceable?"

Natasha had to hide a sneer at Brady's anger as she left the filing room. She had chosen this moment to open the door to defuse the growing tension in the room. She nodded at Carter, who was staring down her subordinate.

"Ready?" The two left the office and walked down the short hallway to the SSR office. A few agents looked up, but Carter ignored them and opened the door to Sousa's office.

Sousa looked up from the papers he was studying and smiled at them. "Peggy." He nodded. "It's good to see you again, Natasha."

The corner of Natasha's mouth twitched. She'd never wasted time with pleasantries before, not while working. "I hear you have a mission for me?"

"Yes we do." Sousa folded his hands on his desk and continued, "You have your meeting with your Leviathan contact this Saturday, correct? Well, you'll go, and you'll tell them that Peggy's dead, that you killed her."

"I'll stay here for a few days in case they're looking for me," added Carter.

Natasha couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You want me to lie to them?" When the two Americans nodded, she went on, "I can't lie to them. You don't lie to Leviathan. That's one of the things that you just don't do. Ever." She could barely stop her rambling, but she had to make them understand.

"I thought lying would be no problem for you," said Carter. "Was I mistaken?"

Normally, Natasha had no problem lying. It was likely she'd told more lies than truths. But this was entirely different. "The last time I lied to them, when I was maybe thirteen, they chained me to the ceiling by my ankles." She spoke bluntly, and the horrified reactions from the two were exactly what she wanted to see. They had to understand. "I had to hang there overnight. Almost lost half my toes to frostbite."

Carter's voice was soft in sympathy as she said, "I'm so sorry that you went through that, but please, this is the best way. If you can't do it, we'll think of something else. But will you at least think about it?"

Silence. Natasha swallowed back her sour fear and spoke. "I can do it."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I find it important to note that I do not ship Peggy and Daniel romantically, just as best friends. Generally I hate unnecessary romantic/sexual tension in shows and movies. Perks of being ace arospec I guess.  
> As always, lots of love to you all <3


	20. Chapter 20

Back in Russia, Natasha had been told that there was a bench just outside the Giants' baseball stadium. She was to go there at noon, and wait for someone to sit down next to her. Then she would ask them if they'd read the newspaper that morning. If they replied that they hadn't had time for the sports section, they were her contact.

Today was the day she was to meet them. Natasha took the subway alone. Carter had told her exactly how to get there, but hadn't warned her about the men. Natasha stared at the wall next to her so the ass sitting on her other side would stop trying to talk to her. It worked, after too long, but his mere presence was still overwhelming.

When her stop was announced, she hurriedly stood up and brushed past the man. He smacked her ass as she walked away, and it took all her willpower not to pull her knife out of her bra and stab his neck. Natasha could practically see the blood flowing out of the main artery, but of course she shouldn't. Too many people around. She'd be caught.

Twenty minutes early, Natasha sat down on the bench. People passed by, dozens of them. None of them paid any attention to her, save for a few young men and women who spared a second glance. Natasha was pretty, she knew that, but she was so much more than her looks. Still, her beauty was important. Nobody would suspect that someone like her could kill a man empty-handed.

Nearly fifteen minutes had passed when a tall man wearing a gray suit and hat sat down next to Natasha. Her heart rate picked up as she looked over at him. His facial features were so average, he might be nearly identical to a hundred men. It had to be him - they wouldn't send anyone who might stand out.

Forcing her voice to sound steady, she asked, "Have you read today's newspaper yet this morning?"

With a cold smile, the man replied, "Yes, except for the sports section. Didn't have the time."

She was sure he could feel the vibrations from her heart where he was sitting half a meter away. "The mission has been completed," Natasha told him. "There was an unfortunate accident involving a gas leak."

Her contact nodded, not seeming to doubt her words. "Well done," he said. "Now you know what you have to do next?"

"Find Dottie," she said. "Do you know where she might be?"

The man nodded once more. "She's American," he said. "Her parents moved to Czechoslovakia in 1917, to take care of her mother's family. They were all killed, except her. One of our girls brought her back to us. We started to train her a couple years later, when she turned six."

"You think she'll try to find her family here?"

"If she remembers that she lived here before she was with us," the man added. "Miami, Florida."

Natasha nodded. "If she isn't there?"

"Good fucking luck."

"What does she look like?" It was the last thing she needed to know. Carter would have been able to give a description, but it was better that she had a concrete image of who she was looking for.

The man took his wallet out of his pocket and opened it, handing her a small picture. A young woman with curly blonde hair was looking condescendingly into the camera lens.

Natasha nodded, tucking the photo into her bra next to the knife. Then the man stood up. "If you don't find her in two months, contact us and we'll arrange to take you back to Russia. Someone else can look for her. We'll have more important missions that only you can do, Natalia." And he walked away.

They had two months. She and Carter would be safe for two months. After that, she had no clue what they would do. But they had two months to try to figure something out.

She caught the next train back and went straight to the SSR. Carter and Sousa were both in his office, chatting over coffee. Carter, who had been sitting on the desk, slid off and asked her, "You're here, so I take it all went well?"

Natasha let out a deep sigh, nearly vomiting but swallowing it back. "He believed me, if that's what you mean."

"I suppose that'll do."

"Natasha, are you alright?" said Sousa. "You look extremely pale."

But she couldn't answer, couldn't speak. She looked down at her shoes and the floor started to wobble and spin. She tried to take a step to steady herself but only made it worse.

A chair scraped back and an arm slung around her waist. "We'll bring you down to the infirmary." The voice sounded distant and slurred, even though Natasha could feel her breath on her neck. The hand grabbed her hip and another guided her shoulders.

She kept her head down and eyes closed. She heard more voices speak more words, but all they were to her were words. She couldn't understand. Another hand curled around her other hip and one more held her arm. God, her head hurt. The words stopped, and the only sound was the tapping of footsteps on the hard floor.

They were falling, but her feet were still on the ground. And then they weren't. Was she floating? She couldn't talk. She couldn't feel. She was falling...

...and then she wasn't. But she didn't open her eyes right away. It was better if they thought she was still unconscious. Maybe she'd learn something.

Her head was supported by something soft - a pillow? Yes, she was on a bed. How did she get here? The last thing Natasha remembered was getting off the train, and then-

She bolted upright as her eyes snapped open. They had her. They had her. No, this couldn't be possible. The couldn't have her. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the well-lit room. When they did, she recognized a few familiar faces.

"Are you okay?" asked Carter. "What happened?"

What had happened, indeed? "I'm okay," said Natasha. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't quite true either. "I don't know what happened, really. I was fine, and then suddenly I wasn't." She stretched her shoulders, cracking her back. She had nearly passed out like this before, but before she was alone and not at the mercy of others. "Where am I, Carter?"

"The medical wing of the SSR," was the reply. "Doctor Wen stepped out for a smoke a minute ago. If you're feeling better, we can leave before he gets back. I assume you don't want any tests done?"

Natasha shook her head. "No, no, I'm feeling better. Let's go." She had never seen a real doctor. When she was sick, she powered through. When she got punished, she bandaged her own wounds. She didn't need anyone else to take care of her.

Carter offered a hand, and Natasha pulled herself up. Blood rushed to her head, and she squeezed Carter's hand while the wave of dizziness passed. Ashamed of needing anyone's help, especially Carter's of all people, she let go as soon as she regained her balance.

It was then that she focused on the other two agents in the room, who had been standing farther away from her bed than Carter. One was Sousa, leaning on his crutch near the doorway. Next to him was a man that Natasha knew she'd met, but couldn't bring his name to mind. It didn't matter.

"Let's go, boys," said Carter, leading them all out of the room, down the hallway, and to the elevator. It took them up one floor, and then the four of them headed for the SSR office. Natasha couldn't help but notice that Carter was walking especially close to her. In case she collapsed again. As Sousa, Carter, and Natasha entered Sousa's office, the other agent found his own desk.

Once the door was closed and locked, Carter swore, "If that bastard you met did something to you to make you sick, I'll find him and beat his ass for you."

"He didn't even touch me," Natasha assured her. "Why do you care so much, anyway? It's not like I'm not replaceable, and you can't possibly trust me more than all your agents. I'm Russian." She glanced at Sousa, who bit his lip but said nothing.

Carter's answer was simple. "I look out for my agents, Natasha. Whatever they taught you in Russia, you're not replaceable. I want you in SHIELD. And you've had so many opportunities to kill me, but you haven't. You lied for me today. Natasha, I trust you enough."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm giving myself too many feels developing the relationship between Nat and Peggy...


	21. Chapter 21

I trust you enough. Carter's words hadn't left her all day. And now that she was trying to fall asleep, they were all she could think about.

Natasha didn't particularly like Carter. She didn't hate her, either. Carter was a very likable woman. A bit harsh on the men occasionally, but she supposed that was justified. And it wasn't that she distrusted Carter. She just wasn't about to depend on her to save her life, like she'd always done.

She knew that Carter was kind to her. She let her stay in her house, she didn't push her too hard to remember the Red Room, she defended her against the agents who wanted her gone.

One thing Natasha couldn't help but appreciate was the unspoken agreement between her and Carter to defend one another if any of the men made any remarks based off their gender. No, she hadn't attacked any more of them, but she had found a new use for her perfected wolf snarl.

I trust you enough. As much as she hated to admit it, Natasha could no longer deny that she felt the same about Carter. They may never be friends, but they could be allies. They would have to be, if they were to go after Dottie together.

At the office the next morning, Carter brought Natasha directly to Sousa's office. "We have to discuss some things with Daniel."

"About Dottie?" Natasha had told them what her contact had said after Carter broke her out of the hospital yesterday afternoon. Were they really going to Miami?

Carter nodded, holding Sousa's door open for her. Sousa was standing at the open window, looking down at the streets below. He was leaning on his elbows, his crutch on the wall next to him. Natasha hated to interrupt - he seemed so deep in thought.

"Daniel?" said Carter tentatively.

Sousa startled and turned around. "Peggy, you scared me," he said. "Morning, Natasha."

"Sorry, Daniel," Carter apologized as Sousa hobbled back to his desk.

"No, no problem," he replied. "We've still got to work some stuff out. Sit down, sit down."

Natasha and Carter took the two wooden chairs placed in front of Sousa's desk and scooted them forward. Sousa and Carter worked out the details of the trip they were making to Florida while Natasha listened. She preferred to listen. Before, she wasn't allowed to make any decisions or offer any suggestions. Carter, of course, valued her input, but Natasha still stayed silent.

When Carter and Sousa had hatched out the plan, they turned to Natasha and Sousa asked her, "What do you think, Natasha? Does that sound good to you?"

She and Carter were to fly to Miami. They'd rent properties on opposite sides of town and explore the city to look for Dottie. To check in every day they would speak on the phone at midnight. This way they'd cover more ground in half the time.

But Natasha didn't like that. "We should live together," she said. "Maybe we were neighbors growing up and decided to move in together. We went south for a change in scenery. You'll have to stay inside until I know she's not around," Natasha added to Carter. "She knows you, not me. It could be really bad if she sees you and decides to do something about it."

Sousa folded his hands and leaned back in his chair. "She has a point," he said to Carter. "If Dottie sees you and you don't notice her, that could be bad. What if she follows you home?"

"You think I can't fight her?" protested Carter. "Just because I didn't kill her two years ago does not mean I'm not capable-"

"Nobody said you're not capable," interrupted Natasha, though she doubted that Carter's fighting skill could rival that of a Black Widow. "If she sees you, she'll know you're looking for her. Then, if she doesn't kill you that is, she'll leave, and we'll have no idea where she's going next."

Carter huffed. "If you insist," she said. "We'll be leaving in half an hour. I trust you didn't leave anything at home that you want to take with you?"

Silently Natasha shook her head. The only things she really needed were the knife in her bra and the gun strapped to her thigh, hidden by her skirt. Everything was replaceable.

"Then say your goodbyes, because we'll be off soon." Carter knew that Natasha didn't have any friends at the SSR, no one to say goodbye to. The men who didn't hate her were all afraid of her.

It kept them in line, though. And Natasha didn't need any friends, anyway. She'd never had one before, and she knew all too well the dangers of caring too much about someone.

Fury was the only one who was ever nice to her, aside from Carter and Sousa. Having him as an ally would be good. Maybe Natasha should act friendly rather than just polite. It would be hard, she wasn't used to such things, but she could do it. If it might benefit her, she'd do it.

Natasha lifted an eyebrow at Carter as she stood up and left Sousa's office for SHIELD's.

Agents Brady and Quinn ignored her as she entered, like usual, but Fury offered her a smile. Natasha smiled back and took a seat at the desk in front of him, where Carter worked when she wasn't with Sousa.

This was the first time Natasha had ever made any attempt to be social with her colleagues, and Fury's eyebrows raised in an expression of delighted surprise. "How are you, Romanoff?" he asked her.

Never one for small talk, Natasha admitted, "I'm actually leaving for a mission soon."

As Fury congratulated her ("Good luck, you'll do fine.") she could almost feel the other agents' interest. They neither liked her nor trusted her, and how she got a mission before then they couldn't have understood. Surely they deserved it more, but they couldn't do what Natasha could.

"We're going after Dottie Underwood," she told Fury. "If we can take her alive, we'll bring her back here."

"We?" interrupted Brady. "Who would want to go on a mission with you?"

Natasha turned her head to look at him with contempt. "Only the best," she replied. "Peggy." She'd figured it would be safe to assume that Brady had never gone on a mission with Carter, and by the way he reacted, she was right.

"Carter?" As much as Brady hated her, he was still impressed. Then back to scornful, "I thought you could take care of yourself. You certainly proved to me that you can overpower an unsuspecting guy in a chair."

She just shrugged. If he'd seen what she could do, he wouldn't be nearly as arrogant. "When you've fought off four grown men with your hands tied behind your back, guys in chairs are surprisingly easy." Brady wouldn't have survived a day in the Red Room. That was why they only accepted girls. They were worth more because they hadn't been handed their strength - they'd earned it.

"You're lying. That's not possible," accused Brady. Little did he know.

"You have no idea what I've done and what I can do," said Natasha, walking towards his desk. She put her hands down and leaned into his face. "And you have no idea how lucky you are that you don't." She maintained eye contact until Brady turned away.

It would have been too easy to pull out her knife and throw it at him. Not to kill him. Just to scare him. She'd aim for his hand maybe, or his leg. Not his eye or throat; they'd never forgive her if she seriously hurt him, which would make them impossible to work with. The thought had crossed her mind so many times but she had never gone through with it.

"Anyway, I should get going," she said. "Wouldn't want to delay the mission." As she headed for the door, she brushed her cold fingers against the back of Brady's neck. It made him shiver and slap his hand to where she'd touched him, and Natasha smirked to herself as she closed the door to SHIELD.

Carter was waiting for her just outside, in the hallway. Had she heard anything? If she had, she said nothing about it, simply asking, "Ready to go?" And Natasha nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could really use a hug and a week long nap... hope your days are going better than mine loves


	22. Chapter 22

Carter had brought a book to read on the plane. The rustle of the pages was accompanied by Natasha's soft snores. She had fallen asleep almost immediately after takeoff, and woke herself after every fifteen minutes or so. Natasha didn't dare nap for too long at a time in front of so many others.

But then, suddenly, she was alone. It had to be a dream, she realized. Normally, she tried to wake herself up so that she wouldn't dream. But this time she couldn't.

It was always during the nightmares that she couldn't force herself awake. Most of Natasha's nightmares took place in the Red Room, and this one was no different. She was standing in a cold room made of gray stone. She'd had this dream before. At least she knew what horrors to expect.

Since she'd been there before, she didn't need to look around. She already knew that the rust colored spots on the walls weren't paint or mold, but blood. She already knew that hanging from the tall ceiling were dead girls in shackles and nooses, in varying states of decomposition. She already knew that there was a way out somewhere in the room, but it was hopeless to try to find it.

Soon, someone would come in. Natasha wouldn't notice when, or how exactly he got in. He would just be there. And there would be nowhere to run from him. Nowhere to hide as he chained her wrists and ankles together and tied a noose around her neck.

She was shaken awake before he could go through with the hanging. Not recognizing her surroundings, Natasha stayed completely still and slowed down her breathing until she remembered where she was.

Turning to Carter, she asked, "You woke me?"

Carter nodded. "You started talking in your sleep," she told her. "You hadn't done that before, so I thought something might be wrong."

Natasha yawned, and then said, "I was having a nightmare. What was I saying?"

"You were just whispering 'he'll kill me' over and over," said Carter. "Don't worry, no one else heard. I could only make it out when I leaned in really close to you face. When I realized what you were saying, I knew it couldn't be good, so I woke you."

"Yeah, thanks." Natasha turned to the window, looking but not seeing. She wanted to forget about what had just happened - it wasn't really a big deal or anything - but Carter persisted.

"You said you had a nightmare? Do you get them often? Was it about the Red Room?"

Sighing silently, Natasha turned back to Carter. She knew she'd need to tell Carter about this eventually, ever since joining SHIELD, but she'd hoped that this particular memory could have waited until she was ready to talk about it.

And at this point it was easier to just tell the truth. It would be easy for Natasha to talk about another memory - god only knew how many she had. But that would be more effort than it was worth.

How ironic was it that it had become easier for the girl who had been trained to lie to tell the truth.

Still, this wasn't the place to talk about her nightmare. "I'll tell you about it when we get settled into an apartment," she promised Carter.

Nodding, Carter seemed to understand the reasons for Natasha's hesitation. "And I don't want to push you into talking about something you're not ready to talk about," she added. Natasha practically had this little speech of hers memorized. "As much as SHIELD would like to know everything we can about Leviathan, your comfort comes first."

There was no need for the affection. Natasha didn't need Carter to care for her any more than she cared for her other agents. There wasn't any reason for it. She was tougher than she looked - that was why she'd been such a good Black Widow. To Carter, Natasha said, "Are you sure you're ready to hear about it?"

One of the flight attendants stopped by their seats and asked if either of them would like a drink. They declined, and she moved on.

"Is it really that bad?" asked Carter, resuming their conversation.

Didn't Carter know by now that anything to do with the Red Room was really that bad? "I'm really not sure how you can expect otherwise."

Carter nodded and fell silent. She stayed quiet all through the rest of the plane ride, staring at the seat in front of her, and Natasha didn't complain. She didn't dare another nap, not wanting to risk another nightmare. So she, too, looked at the seat in front of her, focusing on thinking about nothing.

When they landed, Natasha and Carter, having no luggage, left the airport quickly. They still needed to find a place to stay, and they needed to find it fast in case Dottie was around. Natasha had helped disguise Carter before they left. It was simple, really. Loose clothes that hid her body shape, makeup that made her facial structure appear different, and a wig and fake glasses just for the extra touch. Carter could also speak in a flawless American accent, and with all of that, she was virtually unrecognizable.

It took them several hours of flipping through telephone book after telephone book and making calls using a pay phone before they found a good place to rent out. The two took a cab there, and their new landlord welcomed them in and showed them to their room, apartment 312.

Once he left, Carter walked around and looked closely at the furniture, the walls, the shelves. "Well, it's no Howard Stark mansion, but it'll do," she said, back to her normal accent. "If I'm to stay cooped up in here for days on end we certainly could have chosen worse."

Natasha didn't miss the bitterness in her voice. "How do you thing all your agents would react if they found out I got you killed?" she said, resisting the urge to let her sudden anger through in her voice. "I know it's not ideal, but it's for both of our goods."

"You could do my makeup like this every day," suggested Carter. "Or teach me so I can do it myself."

"I'm not spending an hour every day so you can go outside," argued Natasha. "nd do you know how hard it is to get it exactly right every time? How much practice it takes to get it even close? I'd find Dottie before you'd learn how."

"How long did it take you?"

Natasha smiled, all humor absent from her face. "Two weeks," she said. "Two weeks of practicing ten times a day on a dummy model, knowing that if I didn't get it right I'd be punished."

After hearing this, Carter deflated. "I'm sorry, Natasha. That must have been hard for you."

That was an understatement, but Natasha merely nodded, all the fight leaving her too. "Do you know what punishments were like in the Red Room?" she said. She hadn't even begun to tell Carter and SHIELD about what her instructors had done to her.

"Worse than I can imagine?"

She wasn't wrong. "Not just that," said Natasha. Some were okay. The whipping I could take. Usually ten lashes, just a bit of pain and then it was over."

Carter's eyes widened but she said nothing.

"Pain was easy to handle," continued Natasha. "We'd been trained in pain, a little more was nothing. It was hard at first to dress my own wounds, but I got used to that, too."

"If being whipped wasn't that bad," Carter said slowly, "what was?"

Natasha took a deep breath and walked over to sit on the old couch by the window. "Ready for a long story?"

Carter sat down next to her. "If you're ready to tell it."

Taking a deep breath, Natasha began to speak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the cliffhanger...


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited about developing the relationship between Nat and Peggy I may have said this before but it is still very true. Hope you all like this chapter <333

Natasha could remember every detail, feel every sensation, as though the Red Room were a thing of the present instead of the past. As she went back, she got lost in the memories and was only vaguely aware of her voice and Carter's gaze.

When the girls were younger, punishments were simpler. You'd get beat up a little bit but that was all. It helped you learn how to be tough, how to handle physical pain.

As they got older the punishments became worse. Not physically. Humans were very fragile, and it would only take so much pain to end their lives. And the Black Widow program aimed to teach the girls, not kill them. Death was simply an inevitability, as some girls were stronger than others, and they needed to weed out the weaker girls.

Natasha was not weak. She was a survivor. She'd do whatever it took to survive. And she was desperate to prove herself. But she still made mistakes, had her fair share of punishment.

One particular day that stood out in her mind was the ten-kilometer run. It wasn't her first time running a 10k, but they were outside in the cold with no gloves. About halfwway through the run, Natasha was in so much pain that she considered giving up. In the moment, it was a choice between living and burning in the cold of the snow, or dying and burning in the heat of hell. But as there was no proof that an afterlife even existed, Natasha decided to take her chances.

Until, that is, Marinka caught up to her.

Just skilled enough to slip by largely unnoticed, Marinka rarely spoke to anyone. She wasn't as good at fighting as most of the other girls, but she could keep her wits about her to get out of bad situations.

And it just so happened that Marinka was cold too, but she'd had an idea that helped, somewhat. And upon catching up to Natasha, she decided to share it. Nobody else was around. It should have been safe.

"Tear a strip off your shirt and tie it around your ears."

Natasha should have thought of that, really. It was so simple. But her fingers were too numb to tear her shirt, let alone tie a knot in the fabric.

Luckily for her, Marinka didn't stop at just giving advice. She helped Natasha tear her shirt and tied it around her head to cover her ears. She didn't go on ahead, either. She kept pace with Natasha, the pair jogging with their hands in their armpits to avoid frostbite.

That was their mistake. They should have split up after a while; they should not have finished together. They might have gotten away with it if they weren't seen together. They might have been able to keep the secret.

Madame B was not too thrilled to find out that one of her girls had helped another, to say the least. But it was always hard to tell - she could hide her emotions better than anyone, if she even had any.

Since Marinka was the one who had helped Natasha, she deserved the worse fate. But because Natasha had accepted help, she, too, deserved punishment.

And damned if they didn't have a way to kill two birds with one stone.

Marinka deserved twenty lashes for offering help to another. For accepting help, Natasha was to wield the whip. It was a test, to see if she was strong enough to hurt the one who had helped her.

With the training she'd received, it came startlingly easy to Natasha. She blocked out Marinka's shrieks of pain and the stench of her blood, just counting out loud. "Eighteen... nineteen... twenty." Then she dropped the whip and left Marinka to tend to her wounds alone.

Natasha was eleven.

***

"Eleven?" repeated Carter, pulling Natasha back to Miami.

"Eleven," confirmed Natasha. "That was just how it was, how they trained us. When you screwed up, you needed to be punished. It didn't matter what age you were."

"That's terrible," said Carter. "What happened to Marinka?"

Natasha didn't really want to tell her. It couldn't be shame that she was feeling, since it had happened years ago, but she didn't know what else it might be. "She was alright after that, after she healed," she answered. "But she didn't make it past fourteen. She died a little over a year later."

"Another punishment?"

It was harder to dodge the truth on this one - there was no clear answer. "There was an accident," Natasha settled on, still trying not to give anything away. And it wasn't an outright lie - there had been an accident - but it wasn't the full story.

Carter had an unfortunate knack for picking up on the things Natasha left unsaid. "What kind of accident was there?" she asked. "What aren't you telling me?"

"It was my fault." The confession came out suddenly, in a hoarse whisper.

Putting a hand on Natasha's knee, Carter said quietly, "Do you want to tell me what happened?"

For once Natasha didn't want to shrug off the touch. It calmed her, kept her from shaking as she said, "It was an accident, but it was my fault. She came up behind me, I turned around with a knife in my hand. Cut her eye out. She screamed." Natasha put her face in her hands, the bloodcurdling shriek coming back to her, as if it had ever left her ears.

"Shh." Carter gently started moving her hand, trying to calm her.

"She lived. The accident didn't kill her." These words were the hardest. "But she only had one eye. She stood out. She was useless now. And I had to be punished for losing a potential Black Widow. So I was the one who pulled the trigger."

Natasha had never cried in her life, not that she remembered. Until now. Carter pulled her into a hug, and she let her without protest.

Unused to crying as she was, it hadn't taken long for the tears to stop. But Carter kept holding her tight, and Natasha didn't try to escape.

Eventually, though, Carter let her go, and she sat back against the couch.

Natasha's voice was still shaky as she said, "Sorry, I've never..."

"It's okay, Natasha," said Carter. "You're so strong for going through all that. But it's over now. You'll be okay."

"It's not over." She shook her head. "They're still doing it. They haven't stopped training girls. One of them could be doing this right now. There will be no end."

"We could shut down the program," suggested Carter. "After we're done here."

Natasha just laughed. "That's not possible," she told her. "Even if you could find them, there's no way you could stop them. You'd be up against a couple hundred girls, some trained, some only children. You'd have to kill them all, and then kill me if you somehow managed that."

"Kill you?" Carter looked at her in confusion. "You're not with them anymore. Why would I have to do that?" She put her hands on Natasha's shoulders. "You're safe now."

If only she knew how completely untrue that was. "As long as I remember the Red Room, as long as there's someone alive who remembers it, it's not over."

"You never have to go back," whispered Carter. "It's over for you."

"Not as long as I can remember," Natasha growled. It made Carter flinch back, but she didn't move her hands. "I remember everything. I live through it every day. You think shit like that's easy to forget?"

A tear threatened to spill over Carter's eyelashes. "I'm so sorry that all that happened to you." Her voice was trembling. "But I promise you, after we find Dottie, we'll end the Black Widow program."

Pushing Carter away, Natasha stood up. "I don't need it to end," she said. "I just need to forget."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things haven't been going very well for me lately, send me some love?  
> Happy thanksgiving to everyone, love to you all too :)


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I haven't been writing as much recently. I don't want to make excuses but my medication has been really fucking with my head and I honestly don't know how I'm still functioning.  
> Also, has everyone seen the Civil War trailer? It gave me so many feels and I still haven't recovered. I have more feels about Cap than I do for my own life which is probably terribly unhealthy but idfc

It was dark when Natasha woke up from a dreamless sleep. If there was a clock in the room she couldn’t read it. The window was open, so she knew it was nighttime, but for all she knew it could be eight in the evening or three in the morning.

Stretching her stiff muscles, Natasha left the apartment’s single bedroom. Carter, relaxed on the couch, had been waiting up for her. She still had Natasha’s expert makeup on, but had changed into a nightgown.

“I wondered when you’d be up,” was all she said upon seeing Natasha. “I went out and bought some food while you were asleep. There’s a sandwich for you in the center cupboard above the sink.”

Natasha nodded and crossed into the next room over to the tiny kitchen. She found the sandwich on a plate where Carter said it’d be, and brought it back into the sitting room to eat next to Carter. “What time is it?” she asked as she took her first bite.

Checking her watch, Carter replied, “Almost 1:30.”

That wasn’t so bad. 1:30 wasn’t terribly late. But it had been a long day, and Carter must have been tired. “Why did you wait up for me?” Natasha asked her.

Carter took a couple breaths before replying, “I wanted to apologize, Natasha.”

“For what?” Natasha wasn’t just asking for formality’s sake. She was genuinely curious. Carter had nothing to apologize for.

“I’d underestimated just how terrible Leviathan is,” said Carter. “I knew they didn’t think twice about killing innocent people, and raised you in fear in the Black Widow program. But I didn’t know just how bad it was for you, even after you joined SHIELD and started to tell us. I should have been more sensitive, and for that I’m sorry.”

Natasha shook her head. “I only told you about the parts that weren’t so bad, the parts it didn’t hurt to talk about,” she said. “You had no way of knowing what hell I’ve been through. I’m the one who should have been more sensitive; I should have just told you about the nightmare I’d had on the airplane, that story isn’t nearly as bad-”

“I thought your killing Marinka was the nightmare you’d had,” interrupted Carter. “That wasn’t it?”

Of course she would have assumed that. “No.”

Carter put her hand on Natasha’s knee, like she had earlier. “I’m so sorry,” she repeated. “I can’t even imagine what else they’ve done to you.”

“Don’t try,” said Natasha. “You’re better off not knowing.” She hoped that Carter wouldn’t make a habit of touching her, but still didn’t move the other’s hand.

“Look at me,” said Carter, and Natasha turned her head slightly and raised her eyebrows. “Natasha, look at me.” When Natasha met her eyes, Carter went on, “Hear me out, okay? Just listen. I know you’ve been trained not to trust anyone, and to do everything by yourself. And I know it’s hard for you to get over that, I’ve seen it. But I just want to tell you, you’re not alone anymore. You have SHIELD. You have me. We all want what’s best for you. You’ve gone through hell, but you don’t have to bear it on your own. Let us help.”

Natasha turned away and finally moved Carter’s hand. Her thigh ached for the warmth where it had been. “You can’t help someone who’s beyond saving.”

“Maybe not, but I can damn well try.” Why was she so insistent? “Natasha, I care about you. I want you to be alright. I might be the first person ever to tell you this, but accepting help doesn’t make you weak.”

“Admitting you need someone is the first step to weakness,” Natasha repeated the words that had been ingrained in her for years. “That’s a sin deserving twenty lashes.”

“No, Natasha, that’s not right,” said Carter softly, soothingly. “Nobody can be strong all the time. You’ve been through years of it. Accepting help is just learning that there are other kinds of strength. Let me be strong for you.”

Holding back tears, a skill that she’d long been good at, Natasha scoffed. “You think you can really do anything for me?” she said. “You haven’t known pain like I have. It would crush you.”

“It’s been crushing you since you were six years old,” protested Carter. “The least I can do is lift it off you for a little while.”

Back in the Red Room, Natasha whispered along with Madame B. “You are all alone. Nobody cares about you. You belong to us. You have no place in the world.”

“Natasha-”

“In a world run by men, nobody wants girls like you. Your life is useless in this world. But that doesn’t mean you have to waste it.” Although she hadn’t spoken the words since she graduated, they came impossibly easy to her lips.

The hand that struck her face came as a surprise to both of them. Even though it stung, Natasha didn’t let it show. Carter, however, had her jaw open in shock at what she’d done, her hand still raised. When she recovered, she said, “I’m so sorry Natasha, but you have to stop saying that. What they were teaching you, none of that is true.”

“Then how come it’s proven itself over and over?” countered Natasha. “Just because you don’t want to face it doesn’t mean it isn’t fact.”

“I don’t want to argue with you, Natasha,” said Carter. “I just want to help.”

How many times had Carter told her that? And how many times had Natasha proven she was beyond help, beyond any hope? But she was so damn persistent that Natasha didn’t want to waste all her energy fighting her.

“You can try,” she finally agreed.

Carter nodded, softly saying, “Thank you.”

But Natasha still felt the need to add, “All the luck in the world won’t make a difference.”

With a smile, Carter replied, “Then it’s a good thing I don’t depend on luck.”

Natasha tried to smile back, but what appeared on her face was definitely not a smile.

“Go back to sleep,” said Carter then. “We’ll have plenty of time to talk more in the morning.”

Nodding, Natasha stood up. “Do you want the bed for the rest of the night?” she asked awkwardly. She hoped Carter wouldn’t suggest sharing it. Not now, not when their two months were up. They could take turns, it would only be fair, but Natasha was not about to sleep next to somebody else.

But Carter shook her head. “I’ll sleep out here tonight,” she said. “Don’t be afraid to come out here if you need anything.”

“Thanks.” Hesitating for a couple seconds, Natasha wondered if there was anything left to say. She finally decided on, “Well, goodnight then,” and escaped into the bedroom and shut the door.

Why did Carter have to be so damn nice? The mission would almost have been easier if she wasn’t. Natasha was used to barely civil relationships during cooperative missions. You looked out for yourself and only talked about the mission when it was necessary. It was so much simpler that way.

After operating on her own for so long, working with Carter was going to be hard to get used to. Carter enjoyed friendly conversation, looked out for others who needed help, and only killed when necessary – all things the Black Widows had been trained not to do.

But hell, Natasha had learned how to adapt to change in the Red Room. It would take time, but eventually she’d adapt to SHIELD and its policies. After all, she was already changing to fit in better in America. And it was much easier than she’d assumed.

It didn’t mean, though, that she could ever forget who she had been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoiler alert: Peggy doesn't kiss Nat for another few chapters. But it will happen I promise


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My grandfather died last night. I've barely been able to stop crying since I heard. He was a good man with lots of love to give, and we'll all miss him very much. His health has been pretty bad the past few years, he's been in and out of the hospital, but he was happy . He was one of the best men I've ever known and I'm officially dedicating this fic to him. Grandpa, I'll always love you <3

Natasha, while out looking for Dottie, had picked a few pockets and shopped for a few of the things Carter had mentioned needing to buy when they first walked in. She came in with soap, towels, and extra clothes. She’d also been unable to resist grabbing another knife, tied to her thigh with a crude knot. The serrated edge was cutting through her hose to her skin, enough to be mildly uncomfortable but not to draw blood.

Carter seemed happy to see her, at least. “You’re back,” she said, coming forward to help Natasha carry in her bags. “Any sign of Dottie?”

“Not yet,” replied Natasha. “But it’s only been one day. The odds of finding her this quickly are next to nothing.” She didn’t even think it was likely they’d find Dottie in Miami at all, but didn’t voice her thoughts aloud.

“It can’t hurt to hope,” said Carter as she took the towels to the bathroom.

“It hurts more than you realize.” She’d learned not to hope years ago, that it was easier to just accept her fate. Nothing was going to change, so why waste time thinking about what ifs?

Walking over to where Natasha was putting the clothes away in the wardrobe, Carter gave her a look. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase, prepare for the worst but hope for the best?”

Natasha shook her head. “In the Red Room, it was always expect the worst or you’ll probably die.”

“You’re not there anymore, Natasha,” Carter murmured, taking a few steps closer. “You’re here now. No one’s trying to kill you anymore. And if they come after you, they’ll have to go through SHIELD.”

“Once they find out I lied, they’re going to make my death a top priority.” Natasha couldn’t believe she had to say this to Carter. She should know what Natasha wasn’t safe. “And it won’t exactly be hard for them to go through all four agents of SHIELD.”

“Natasha, listen to me,” Carter said firmly. “I will do everything within my power to keep Leviathan away from you. I might succeed. I might fail. But I will try.”

The corners of Natasha’s lips twitched. “There’s nothing you can do,” she said. “In two months I’m going to have to go back. You know what he said. If I don’t they’ll come find me and kill me. And then, when I’m back with them, and they find out I lied about you, they’ll kill me.” She paused, taking a couple breaths. “I’m a dead woman either way. I might as well turn myself in now.”

Carter jumped forward to hug Natasha, pinning her arms to her sides. “I won’t let you go back there,” she said. “We’ll think of something, we’ve got time. But you’re not going back to Leviathan.”

Although Natasha appreciated the sentiment, she couldn’t see any other way. “Before they find out about me, I’ll try to send you some information about them,” she promised. “Maybe I could still help you bring Leviathan down.”

Releasing her from her hug, Carter took a step back and said, “We’d rather have you here and alive than in Russia and dead.”

“We?” repeated Natasha, taking a few steps back herself. “Who’s ‘we,’ Carter? Haven’t you noticed? You’re the only one who actually wants me around. All your other agents have placed bets on how long I’ll stay before going back to Russia.”

“So stay!” Her words were more forceful now. “Prove them all wrong.”

“If only it was that easy.” She could stay there twenty years, and she’d still have to prove herself loyal every single time she did something that gave her an opportunity to betray them.

“Look, Natasha, just give this a chance,” said Carter. “I’ll never know exactly how hard it is on you, but you’ve already helped SHIELD and the SSR so much.”

If she had, Natasha didn’t see it. “How?”

“Well, first of all, it’s likely that Leviathan will leave us alone for the time being, since they think I’m dead,” said Carter. “That’s thanks to you. And soon we’ll have Dottie, because of your help.”

Natasha didn’t respond. Any of the Black Widows Leviathan could have sent might have done the same.

“And I have another female agent,” continued Carter. “The men are all afraid of you. They don’t doubt your competence – your loyalty, yes, unfortunately – but they’ll be less opposed when we bring another woman to the team. Natasha, you’ve single-handedly proved the worthiness of the female gender.”

She merely shrugged to that. Women were the worthier of the two genders, and if men couldn’t see that, they were idiots.

Carter stepped forward, backing Natasha into the wall. “We need you, Natasha. Why can’t you see that?”

Natasha looked down. “All my life, we’ve all been replaceable,” she mumbled. “If you died, it didn’t matter, because there were other girls who could take your place and do your job better than you did. You had to prove yourself worth keeping around.”

“You know that’s not how it is here.” Carter put her fingers under Natasha’s chin and lifted her face until she could meet her eyes. “You are not replaceable. And dammit I haven’t come to like you just for you to go off and get yourself killed.”

Had Natasha heard right? Carter not just tolerated her presence, but actually liked her? It would explain why she was always so nice to her, at least. “You shouldn’t like me,” she told her. “I’m the kind of woman you’re not supposed to like.” Not that saying that would change her mind.

Sure enough, her words made no difference to Carter. “Well, what’s not to like about you?” she said.

“I kill people.” That usually kept most people away from her.

Carter nodded. “Yes, you’ve killed people. You’ve had a difficult life. But it wasn’t your fault, Natasha. Look at you now. You’ve left them. You’re trying to change. Even though you knew it would be hard, you still chose a different path for yourself. You are so strong, Natasha. Don’t give up. Please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> won't update for a couple weeks because of fairly obvious reasons. if you're religious please pray for my grandma, they were married for almost 60 years and i can't even imagine how hard this must be on her


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back a hell of a lot sooner than I thought I'd be but writing is the only thing that's keeping me sane. I've got three finals and a funeral this week. Someone help me lmao  
> I also may have binge watched Jessica Jones. It was really well done. Not to spoil anything but Jessica was one of the best written female Marvel characters. Like the guys are usually developed in depth and the girls an afterthought for sex appeal, but Jessica was unapologetically sarcastic and it was great.

A few weeks had passed in Miami, still with no sign of Dottie. Somehow, Carter had become Peggy, and Natasha found it easier to talk and laugh with her. But her focus, as it had always been, was on completing the mission and staying alive.

Natasha and Peggy often went out together to look for Dottie. Today was no exception. They took the train to a different area of the city and wandered the streets. In case Dottie recognized Peggy, they didn’t want to split up. They just walked together, knowing that the longer they were outside the more likely it was they’d find who they were looking for.

The people here left them alone. In New York, Natasha remembered nodding at people she ran into often. In Miami, no one did that. Natasha wasn’t sure which she liked better. The Black Widow would have chosen Miami – the less contact you have with people, the better. But after spending so much time with Peggy, that seemed like a lonely way to live.

When the sun began to set, the two women headed back to their apartment. They were walking up the steps to the building when Peggy stopped and grabbed Natasha’s elbow. She pulled her into the shadows away from the streetlight and whispered, “That’s her.”

There was a woman standing in the window of one of the first floor apartments. Natasha took a second glance at her. She did see a resemblance between the woman in the window and the one in the picture, but she couldn’t be positive they were one and the same. “You’re sure?”

“Absolutely.” Peggy was still looking at the woman. “That’s her.”

“I hate to say this, but you’ll have to stay inside again.” It was all Natasha could think of to say. She couldn’t believe they had found Dottie. Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that Dottie had found them.

Peggy didn’t protest. “You’ll have to invite her over for tea sometime,” she replied. “We’ll grab her then and take her back to SHIELD.”

“What do you expect me to do, knock on her door and invite her over for tea?” It wasn’t a bad plan, though. Natasha could say it was to welcome her to her new home. She’d have to act friendly to Dottie for at least a few days before, but that would be easy. Natasha knew how to manipulate people.

But then again, Dottie had been trained the same way Natasha had. That might make her harder to manipulate. Or maybe it would be easier to take her, since her moves would be easy to predict.

Natasha was getting ahead of herself. They hadn’t even spoken yet.

“We have to go inside,” she said to Peggy. “We look like criminals, standing out here in the dark.”

Peggy nodded. “She can’t see us anyway, not when it’s light in there and dark out here. Let’s just hope we don’t run into her on the stairs.”

The two women walked inside and up the stairs to their apartment, seeing no one either on the stairs or in the corridors. Once they got inside and Natasha clicked the lock shut, Peggy breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank god she didn’t see us.” Then she plopped down onto the couch.

“How did this happen?” said Natasha, mostly to herself, as she started pacing on the rug. “It’s too big a coincidence that she just so happens to move into the apartment we’ve been staying in. It can’t be an accident. But how did she find us? And how did she know we were looking for her?”

“Natasha, relax,” said Peggy. “There’s no way Dottie could know we’re looking for her. Sometimes a coincidence is all it is.”

“Call SHIELD.”

“What?”

Natasha stopped her pacing and gave Peggy a direct look. “You heard me. Call SHIELD. Or Sousa. Someone who might have a better idea of what’s going on.”

“Why me?” said Peggy. “You’re the one who has questions, and I’m the one who can’t leave the apartment. You know the number, you call them.”

“They won’t listen to me,” Natasha told Peggy. “You know that as well as I do. Anyone I talk to, they’ll just ask me if I’ve killed you yet and hang up.”

Peggy shook her head. “Not Daniel,” she reminded her. “He knows you won’t betray us. Talk to him. He’ll give you a straight answer. Or, pretend to be me. You can fake my accent, can’t you?”

She could, but there were still flaws in Peggy’s plan. “I can fake your accent but not your voice,” Natasha said. “Then they’ll be sure I killed you because why would I have to pretend to be you if you were still alive?”

“They’re men, Natasha!” Peggy seemed more amused than angry. “They won’t notice anything unless you put it right under their noses. They’ll hear your accent and not thick twice of it.”

That was a good point. Natasha found it hard to argue with, but she’d never failed before. “What if they ask me about something only you know about? What would I say then?”

“Just tell them you’re in a rush and can’t talk any longer, or that they’re not authorized to know.” Now Peggy sounded a little impatient. “Honestly, Natasha, you can kill a man blindfolded but you can’t make a phone call?”

Natasha had no response to that. “Fine,” she agreed, grabbing a handful of coins from the ashtray on the coffee table. “Fine, I’ll be right back.” And she left the apartment and headed for the pay phone in the lobby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ways that I am like Natasha: I also hate making phone calls. Ways that I am not like her: I (unfortunately) can't kill a man blindfolded. Could be a handy trick.


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hanukkah was last week I think so happy Hanukkah everyone.  
> I'm trying to keep my state of complete emotional disaster out of my writing, it might not be working.  
> My birthday's on Thursday lmao I'm super old

Natasha had ended up speaking to Sousa, after all, but he knew nothing about their dilemma. There was one thing he said, though, that caught in her brain. “Maybe she’s still in contact with Leviathan.” She had dismissed it on the phone, of course, because why would she be tasked to kill an active Black Widow agent? And how could Dottie still be active, when she had failed a mission and exposed the Black Widow program to the SSR as well? Not to mention that no one had heard from her in over two years.

But then, how could Leviathan have directed her so perfectly to the city Dottie was living in, when she could have been anywhere? And if they knew where she was, why not bring Natasha back and send someone else to do the job? Or why didn’t they kill her before now? They’d had two years to do so.

Something didn’t quite add up, and Natasha wanted to figure it out before she went back to talk to Peggy. She sat down on the bottom stair to think.

Leviathan had remained in contact with Dottie, that much was clear. She couldn’t have been sent to try to kill Peggy again, so she must have been doing something else. There had been no major deaths that Natasha had heard of, so Dottie must have been gathering intelligence.

So why was Natasha’s current mission to kill her? Had she outlived her use? They couldn’t bring her back to Leviathan’s headquarters, since all the girls had been told she was dead. But why not just keep her here until she was useful again, as she was still alive?

Did Leviathan know she was lying, after all? Natasha had told her contact that Peggy was dead – had they found out that wasn’t true? Again, the only thing that made sense was that one of Peggy’s agents was a spy for Leviathan. He would have told Leviathan that Peggy was very much alive and that Natasha had joined SHIELD.

All traitors to Leviathan were killed – no exceptions. Which meant that Natasha was to be killed. And Dottie must have been tasked to do it.

What kind of sick game was Leviathan playing, telling two Black Widows to try and kill the other? Leviathan didn’t need either of them alive – most likely the survivor would go back to Russia just to be killed, perhaps even made an example of.

If there were any other logical explanations for this, Natasha couldn’t think of any after twenty minutes of thoroughly wracking her brain. She debated on calling Sousa back to tell him the conclusions she had come to, but decided against it. She should probably talk to Peggy first. There would be plenty of time to call tomorrow.

One other neighbor was on the stairs as Natasha walked up. They nodded politely at each other as they passed. Luckily it wasn’t Dottie, or Natasha didn’t know what she would have done.

“What did they say?” asked Peggy when Natasha closed and locked the door behind her.

“I talked to Sousa. He didn’t know anything about it,” said Natasha. “But he told me Leviathan might still be contacting her. And it explained a lot.”

“How?”

Natasha told her what she had realized downstairs, making sure to clearly explain her thinking so Peggy wouldn’t mark her down as irrational like she had in the past.

“I’ve told you before, there are no spies in SHIELD or the SSR,” insisted Peggy.

“Then you explain how Dottie knew we were here.” Natasha was right; she knew it. And she was sure Peggy knew it, too, but didn’t want to admit that she’d made a mistake.

“If Leviathan is still contacting Dottie, and they contacted you, they must have told you both to come to Miami,” reasoned Peggy. “It is a bit of a coincidence that we picked the same building to live in, but I-”

“Exactly,” interrupted Natasha. “You know who we told about the apartment? Agent Fury.”

“If you’re accusing Fury of spying for Leviathan I must say you are quite mistaken.”

Natasha shook her head. She didn’t at all suspect Fury of being a spy. He was too honest, even when it hurt him. He might not withstand under torture, and he couldn’t have been a spy. “All I’m saying is that since we told Fury where we were, he could have told anyone in SHIELD or the SSR. Anyone could know. Anyone could be the spy.”

Sighing, Peggy at last seemed to accept that Natasha was right. “Then who do you suppose is the spy?” she asked. “Like you said, it could be anyone. And what should we do about it?”

“For now, nothing.” Natasha had a few suspicions, one in particular, but she didn’t want to accuse him just yet. “If we announced that we know there’s a spy in SHIELD or the SSR, but we don’t know who, they would know we were onto them. They’d play it safe until they proved that they weren’t the spy.”

“But-”

Natasha put up her hand to stop Peggy from protesting. “The longer he gets away with it, the less careful he’s going to be,” she said. “He’ll slip up sooner or later, and we’ll get him.”

“You sure?” When Natasha nodded, Peggy went on, “Do you know who he might be? Or they, I suppose there could be more than one of them.”

Hesitating slightly, Natasha said, “I do have a couple suspicions, yes.”

“Agent Brady?” Peggy guessed, the one who hated Natasha the most.

Natasha shook her head. She and Brady mutually hated each other, but she didn’t think he was a spy. “My money’s on Quinn, not Brady.”

“Quinn?” repeated Peggy. “Are you sure?”

“I’ve got no proof,” shrugged Natasha. “Maybe he is, maybe not. But I think he is.”

“Tell me.”

“He’s a quiet guy, easy to overlook, the agent who always seems to know more than he should. He makes no effort to stand out, like he wants to stay under the radar.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow and said, “That’s all circumstantial at best.”

As if that was all Natasha had to say – though she did have to admit that she had no conclusive evidence. “He’s the one who started the bets against me, on how long it would take me to go back to Russia,” she continued. “Who would accuse him of being a spy when he puts so much blame on someone else, when he has so little faith in the Russian girl?”

“That’s still not-”

“And he’s the one you tasked with the radio, finding Leviathan’s frequency.” This was her most concrete suspicion, and combined with everything else she had said there was no way Peggy could still think him innocent. “But he never finds anything useful, does he. By the time he asks you to translate, most of the conversation is over. How much have you really learned from it?”

“You might be right,” said Peggy. “I’ll keep an eye on him when we get back.”

They might not have the time to wait that long. “Is there anyone at the SSR you know you can trust?” Natasha asked her. She knew about Sousa, but perhaps there were others.

“Daniel. And Agent Jack Thompson. Neither of them are with Leviathan.”

“And you’re sure?” Natasha didn’t want to doubt Peggy’s judgment, but they had to be much more careful now.

Peggy nodded. “We’ve fought Leviathan together in the past,” she said. “We can trust them.”

Natasha nodded too. She would call Sousa again tomorrow morning to warn him of what was going on. Then she noticed that Peggy looked downtrodden. “Are you okay?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

Sinking back into the couch, Peggy replied, “People have died because of my poor judgment before. I don’t want this to be one of those times.”

This was nothing that Natasha could relate too. Sure, she’d inadvertently caused others’ deaths before, but nobody could stay alive forever. You just had to be thankful that you were still alive and get over it. But she knew that those weren’t the words that Peggy needed to hear.

“I – I’m sorry,” she tried, the sympathy falling awkwardly from her lips. “We’ll do our best to make sure that doesn’t happen again, okay?”

“But what if it does?”

This was a rare moment where Peggy needed someone to help her. And Natasha knew that she wasn’t the right woman for the job, but she was the only one there. She couldn’t just say nothing. Peggy was her friend.

“If it does, we’ll be sad,” was all Natasha could think of to say as she sat on the couch next to Peggy. “We’ll have to live with it. It might be hard, but we can make sure that they didn’t die for nothing.”

“Chief Dooley died for nothing,” responded Peggy. “Dottie got away.”

“It wasn’t for nothing,” Natasha tried to reassure her. “You saved New York, didn’t you? You saved millions of people because of the sacrifice one man made.” Admittedly she didn’t know much about what had happened, just what she had been told by her superiors. But she knew that Peggy had nearly singlehandedly stopped a tragedy from occurring.

“There are so many people that I couldn’t save.” It was barely a whisper, and Natasha knew that Peggy was talking about more than just the former chief of the SSR.

Natasha hesitated for just a moment as she put her arm around Peggy’s shoulders and pulled the other woman to her. “You did your best,” she said quietly. “Don’t forget, you saved me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun with Nat struggling to feel emotions. Like she only knows how to shut them out, and it's taking time to unlearn that emotions are synonymous with weakness. I wish I was more like that tbh like my parents are fighting and it's one in the morning and I really wish I could learn not to care.
> 
> wow I'm incredibly emotional today sorry


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's almost Christmas so merry Christmas guys. Is it just me or does it feel less like Christmas the older you get?  
> On another note I'm trying to go back and edit an original work that I finished last year. If anyone wants to be a dear and help me with that I can post a link. So if you're interested in the secret affairs of an aromantic 16yo girl, let me know. Not that I'm expecting anything but it can't hurt to ask.

Natasha felt much better the next morning when she phoned Sousa to tell him about the Leviathan spy. Sousa thanked her, but before she could hang up he asked her, “Are you girls doing okay out there?”

“Yeah, we’re fine,” replied Natasha. “Why do you ask?” They had to be fine for her to make the call. Was this casual concern? Leviathan showed no concern. If they asked you if you were doing okay and you said no, they’d kill you for being weak.

“I just thought that maybe it would be too dangerous for you, now that you’re living with Dottie, in the same building and all,” stammered Sousa, sounding suddenly unsure of himself. “I can bring you two back here and send someone else out there.”

Was he serious? “You’ve worked with Peggy long enough by now to know that you shouldn’t underestimate her,” she said. “And I know I haven’t proven myself to you yet but I’ve had more experience than all your agents combined.” It probably wasn’t even stretching the truth that much.

“I know. I know,” he replied. “You ladies have got this. I just want you to be safe.”

There was no “safe,” not in this line of work. “Stop worrying about us,” said Natasha. “I’ll make sure Peggy gets back okay. And you’ve heard my stories, you know I can take care of myself.”

“I know.” Sousa paused, and then went on, “I need to get back to my work here, Natasha. Is there anything else I need to know, or can you call back tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow’s fine.” Though she’d never say it aloud, Natasha was glad to be done with the conversation. “Remember, don’t tell anyone about the spy.”

“Don’t tell anyone, got it.” And they ended the call.

Natasha was heading up the stairs to tell Peggy what Sousa had said when another memory attacked her and took hold. She grabbed onto the banister as her head spun and she was swept into the vision-like state.

Mid-March, the early 1940s. There was a snowstorm. Blizzards like this weren’t too common this time of year – a few centimeters, of course, but not a storm like this. Still, it wasn’t entirely unexpected. The girls trained inside that day; even their instructors didn’t want to be outside.

Everyone, including Madame B, was a little lazy on days with heavy snow like this. That day’s training started an hour later than usual. And an hour was more than enough time for Natasha to fall asleep in the bath.

None of the other girls woke her when training began. Of course they wouldn’t. What she was doing had nothing to do with them, and if they screwed something up their punishment would be far less severe than what would happen to Natasha.

It took a metal hand yanking her up by her wrist to wake her. The Winter Soldier dragged her, wet and naked, into the training room in front of Madame B and the other girls. “I found her. What should I do with her?” he said in broken Russian.

Natasha trembled slightly, not out of cold but fear. She didn’t know exactly what Madame B would do to her, but whatever it was, it would be bad. Probably the worst punishment she’d ever had. This was serious.

Blinking once, Madame B remained expressionless as she told the Winter Soldier, “Get her dressed and leave her outside. The wolves will eat well tonight.”

While the Winter Soldier dragged her back to the living quarters, Natasha was trying to process what Madame B had said. She was numb from shock. How could she do that to her? Natasha was one of the best. They couldn’t afford to lose her. This couldn’t be possible.

But it was happening. The Winter Soldier watched as Natasha dressed. The white clothes began to soak through, and why she’d even bothered to put them on she didn’t know. Then she was dragged out again, through a long hallway that stopped at a door kept shut by several heavy barricades.

The Winter Soldier lifted them easily enough, and when the door creaked open he picked Natasha up by her arm and threw her outside into the snow.

Immediately her clothes began to freeze, and she moved stiffly as she tried to stand. She could hear the Winter Soldier replacing the barricades on the door, and Natasha knew that she had no chance of getting back inside.

If only she’d had a weapon of some sort. She may have been left to die, but she’d rather take her own life than be eaten alive by wolves.

Natasha sighed loudly in frustration. She walked along the side of the building, her hand trailing along the cold stone. Maybe there was another way inside, a secret door or something. She didn’t dare hope she’d find anything, but since her only other option was certain death it wouldn’t hurt to check.

As expected, she found nothing. There was a window that she might fit through, but the glass looked too thick to break with her bare hands, and she’d have to climb up to a second story that she hadn’t known existed. On a good day she could probably do it, but the cold was freezing her fingers in place and the ice made the stone too slippery to climb.

At least the snow would help mask her scent. If she could survive the cold, they might let her back in tomorrow. But if the wolves found her, she’d have no chance.

Then again, maybe the wolves would be a better fate. It would be a quicker death, at least. Did she have a chance in the cold?

No. Natasha’s whole body had already started to tingle and go numb. The wind went straight through her skin. And it would only get worse. So she started to whimper. It was a bit early for the wolves, but maybe they would still hear her.

They did. Yellow eyes appeared several meters in front of her, all she could see of them through the snow. She cried out and stumbled through the snow towards them. Cautiously they approached her. One of them, the leader of the pack, came closest, leaning forward to take in her scent. Evidently deciding that she wasn’t a threat, he backed away and the wolves started to disappear.

“No. Wait,” whispered Natasha, as if they could understand her. But it seemed as if they did, as they slowed down and turned back to her, ears perked up. Were they waiting for her to catch up to them?

Together, Natasha and the wolves fought their way through the snowstorm to a forest. Though the branches were bare, the trees blocked some of the wind and falling snow. The alpha wolf looked at her and grunted.

Soon they reached a thicket. The wolves could fit easily inside, but Natasha had to crawl in and wriggle her way through the brambles. But it was worth it. Although it was still cold, there wasn’t much snow on the ground. It was drafty but the wind no longer hurt as much.

Now that there was no longer snow blowing straight into her eyes, Natasha could see the horrors the cold had done to her. Her feet and hands were pale, white with a tinge of purple. Her toenails and fingernails were blue. “I’m going to die,” she whispered to herself.

But the alpha wolf approached her again and curled around her feet. The sudden warmth from his body hurt, and Natasha cried out with the pain.

The sudden sound caused one of the other wolves – there were maybe twenty in the den – snarl at her. The alpha, not moving from her feet, snarled back, and the lesser wolf backed away.

“Can I touch you?” Natasha didn’t dare speak above a whisper. She didn’t know why she bothered to speak at all, really, since wolves couldn’t understand human tongues.

But they did seem to understand more than she’d first assumed. Maybe they could tell what she was thinking based off her scent, or her tone of voice. Maybe some things were universal, even to animals.

Trying not to move her feet and disturb the alpha, Natasha sat down on the dirt. Cautiously she moved her hand to touch the alpha’s back. He didn’t react so she buried her fingers in his fur. It was painful, but it gave her hope. The pain meant she had a chance. Perhaps she’d survive the night after all.

At the alpha’s signal, three of the other wolves trotted over and sat beside Natasha. Their warmth made her sigh in relief. “Thank you,” she murmured.

Why were the wolves helping her, instead of attacking her? It didn’t make sense. She was easy prey. And wolves knew little other than survival. But this pack seemed to know compassion as well, something Natasha had thought was a strictly human emotion. Although, since she knew humans who knew no compassion, it could be that some animals had learned it.

Whatever the reason for it, Natasha was grateful. Thanks to the wolves, she was going to make it, the wolves that showed her more compassion than her human instructors.

She started shivering again as she regained the feeling in her body, and her skin could feel the cold. The wolves pressed closer to her, sharing their warmth. Natasha, having regained the motion of her fingers, scratched behind the ears of one of the animals. He didn’t seem to mind, even leaning in closer to her.

When the day became night, the pack curled around Natasha to sleep, and to keep her warm still. But she couldn’t fall asleep right away. What if this was their plan, to make her trust them, feel safe with them, and then kill her in her sleep? She would be more than enough to feed the pack.

Could wolves manipulate and strategize like that? Natasha wasn’t sure, but since these animals had shown her compassion perhaps it was possible. There was only one way to find out.

After a couple hours of twenty-minute naps, Natasha was still alive. She concluded that the wolves were not trying to kill her, as they’d had plenty of chances but had done nothing. So she allowed herself to fall into a deeper sleep.

When she woke up the next morning, the pack was still surrounding her. Some had gone off – to hunt, possibly – but a lot of the wolves were still there.

Now Natasha had to make a choice. She had three options that she could see. First, she could join the wolf pack. She was useless in the snow, but when it became warmer she could hunt and fish and gather berries and herbs. She could live in the wild with the wolves.

Second, she could head back to the Red Room. She would have to climb up and break the window she’d seen, but she was much stronger now. It could probably be done.

Or third, she could just leave. Run away from it all. Her instructors presumed her dead – they wouldn’t look for her at all. But Natasha had been with them for as long as she could remember. Not only could she not just leave them behind, but she had no idea how to live a normal life.

Back to the Red Room it was. Natasha looked at the alpha wolf, who hadn’t left her side, and asked him, “Will you take me back?” He grunted as if to reply, and stood up. Natasha stood too, and followed the wolf out of the den and through the forest.

The wolf waited in the snow as Natasha scaled the side of the stone building and reached the window. She held onto the upper sill and kicked the glass in. Then she slid through the hole she had left. Leaning out the window, she whistled goodbye to the wolf. He barked back at her, then turned and trotted away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked the chapter! Next chapter a Very Important Thing happens, and the chapter after that the plot starts advancing again, so hang in there <3


	29. Chapter 29

Natasha had somehow made it back to the apartment in Miami, where she was laying on her back on the bed. Peggy was sitting by her shoulder, looking down in concern at her. When she fully returned to her senses, Natasha scrambled to sit up.

“Are you okay?” Peggy put a hand on her shoulder, and she tried to calm her breathing so Peggy couldn’t feel how panicked she still was.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” replied Natasha. “Just a memory, that’s all.”

“That’s all?” echoed Peggy. “You were walking around like you were hypnotized. It was a miracle I was able to keep you down here.”

Natasha didn’t respond, instead just looking at the wall. Had anyone seen her on the stairs or in the hallway? And what if they had? Were she and Peggy still safely undercover, or had she just jeopardized the entire mission?

Seeming to guess what she was thinking, Peggy said, “Don’t worry, I don’t think anyone saw you, and if they did I don’t think they would have noticed anything odd. You seemed normal until I tried to talk to you. You just didn’t respond.”

Nodding, Natasha didn’t tear her gaze away from the wall.

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Motionlessly, Natasha mentally shook off the remnant feelings of the trance. Then she finally turned to face Peggy. She meant to talk about being thrown out for the wolves in the blizzard, but instead what came out was, “I could have left.”

This seemed to take Peggy by surprise; she blinked and said, “I’m sorry?”

“I could have left,” repeated Natasha. “They left me for dead, but I didn’t die. They didn’t know. They wouldn’t have known if I’d left, because they thought I was dead.”

Peggy shifted over to put her arm around Natasha. “Tell me,” she murmured. “What did they do to you?”

Now Natasha talked about the snow, the wolf pack, the thicket in the woods. Climbing the compound’s outer wall and breaking the window. She’d stumbled into some sort of office. She’d tried all the drawers in the desks, but the only ones that were unlocked were empty.

Then she’d decided to leave the office, go downstairs and maybe rejoin the other girls for training. But at the bottom of the stairs were rooms Natasha had never seen. They’d turned out to be the private bedrooms of her instructors, so she’d waited on Madame B’s bed.

When nighttime came and the girls were all shackled to their beds was when Madame B came up to sleep herself. She’d turned the light on in the room, and screamed when she saw Natasha.

“I was the only girl who’d ever survived a night outside,” Natasha finished, no longer needing Peggy for support but not wanting to move away. “No one was expecting to see me again. And there I was.” The corner of her lips twitched, and she went on, “Waiting to scare the living shit out of my instructor.”

Peggy smiled. “I imagine that was rather satisfying.”

“It’s the only good memory I have of her,” admitted Natasha. Madame B was the most terrifying person Natasha had ever encountered, including every single man she’d been sent to assassinate.

“You know you’ll never have to see her again.”

“I know.” Natasha wasn’t nearly as optimistic as Peggy. She knew that there would always be a chance that Leviathan would find out about her, in which case someone would likely be sent to kill her. Natasha had accepted long ago that she wouldn’t live a very long life, so this didn’t bother her. But she’d be damned if she didn’t go without a fight.

Standing up and walking over to the window, Peggy said, “It’s a wonder, after all you’ve been through, that you haven’t died.” She didn’t face Natasha as she spoke.

It was obvious that she was leaving something unsaid. But that wasn’t like Peggy – she always spoke what was on her mind. “I’m a fighter,” replied Natasha. “That night with the wolves, I got lucky. Strength and luck kept me alive in the Red Room. You know that.”

“And what happened then? After all the other girls were dead?”

Natasha licked her lips. She had avoided talking about this for a reason. Maybe it was out of shame, or reluctance, or the realization that her life was no better for having made it to that point. Whatever the reason, no one at the SSR would understand it.

Except maybe Peggy. “Graduation,” Natasha whispered.

“Graduation? Was there a ceremony?”

“Yes.” Natasha remembered lying face up on a metal gurney, just a thin white sheet covering her naked body. “There were doctors.” They’d injected her with an anesthetic, and Madame B had explained the procedure. “They sterilized me.”

Peggy spun around. “Sterilized?”

“You can’t be a mother and a monster.” Natasha could swear she heard the words come straight from Madame B herself, in cold, sharp, Russian.

“You don’t have to be either.” Peggy stepped closer to Natasha and put her hands on Natasha’s face. “You’re not a monster, Nat. You know that.”

Did she? Did she know that she wasn’t a monster? No, it was the opposite. She knew that she was. The Red Room bred monsters out of young girls. Nice girls didn’t kill people. Tough ones did. Strong ones. Cold ones.

Even after joining SHIELD, Natasha had made sure not to disregard all her Black Widow training entirely. It was what had kept her alive all these years on her missions with Leviathan, and her missions with SHIELD proved to be no less different.

She still never trusted anyone, with Peggy being the sole exception to this rule. She still half expected her own death at any time, even though she knew how unlikely it was with SHIELD. She still didn’t sleep for longer than a half hour at a time, knowing that situations could change in a fraction of a second and she didn’t want to be asleep when they did. She still did her best to stay alive in spite of the odds stacked against her.

Did this make her a monster? No. But it made killing so much easier. And her ruthlessness with Leviathan, that was what made her a monster. Was she still a monster, even though she was no longer with them?

Yes, she was. She had still killed without mercy. No matter who she was now, that would never change.

“Natasha?” It was barely a whisper, but she still heard it clearly. “Natasha.”

“I don’t have to be a monster.” She had been one, they both knew that. Natasha had been trained to see everything as a potential threat, to fight before asking questions. But that had been with Leviathan. With SHIELD, Natasha hadn’t killed a soul, and she was in considerably less danger on a day-to-day basis.

Perhaps Natalia Romanova was the monster. Natasha Romanoff could be whoever she chose to be.

If only it was that easy.

Peggy came back to stand in front of Natasha. She got on her knees so that they were eye level and said, “Natasha, you are not a monster. You never were. You were just trained by terrible people and did what you had to do to survive. That’s human, Natasha. It wasn’t your fault. But that’s all over now. You don’t have to do any of those things anymore.”

Natasha slowly breathed out and bent her neck. Her eyes closed, and they didn’t open even when Peggy put her hands on her face and touched her forehead to hers. And she didn’t move as she felt rather than heard Peggy whisper her name.

But she couldn’t help but respond as Peggy’s lips brushed against her own. At first their lips moved together, and when Peggy pulled back the slightest bit Natasha breathed, “What are you doing?”

“Is it okay?” Peggy whispered back. “Do you want to stop?”

Should they? Probably. For now, though, Natasha decided that no, she didn’t want Peggy to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I barely even ship them tbh I'm just writing the story for the sake of 1940s lesbians but I promised a kiss and here it is. I've got a lot more planned for Nat and Peggy (especially the next few chapters where the plot picks up).  
> I love you all, thank you so much for reading <3


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who started binge watching Agent Carter after ABC put all the episodes back online.

It wasn’t the stiffness or the smell of the old couch that kept Natasha awake that night, or the creaks of the people who lived above them moving about, although they certainly helped. No, it was because she had too much on her exhausted mind to even consider sleep.

Memories of training in the Red Room were getting harder and harder to block out. It wasn’t always the terrible ones. She remembered sparring outside in the fog before a rainstorm, tying nooses and jokingly draping them around their own necks, sneaking knives from the supply room and trying to saw through the shackles on their beds.

But there was always more bad than good. Uncomfortably sitting in mud-stained uniforms, the Winter Soldier dragging them by the excess rope of their knots to Madame B, carving patters into their own skin as punishment for stealing the knives.

With Peggy, though, it was the opposite, more good than bad. Since she’d joined SHIELD, Peggy had been kind and considerate, patient and compassionate. Natasha and Peggy worked well together, both in the office and in the field. Their relationship was characterized by mutual respect and understanding.

Or so Natasha had thought. Where the hell had that kiss earlier come from? And why the hell had Natasha let it go on for a couple hours?

This was certainly one thing her instructors had gotten right. It was easier not to feel. Better to not experience this turmoil of emotions she had never known before. Feelings were terrible but now that Natasha had let them in, it was impossible to continue to shut them out.

So she had to ask herself the unanswerable question. How did she feel about Peggy Carter?

She was saved from having to think about it by a knock at the door. Immediately Natasha sat up, alert. Who would visit them at this hour?

The visitor knocked again. Natasha was desperately curious to know who it was, but now was not the time for recklessness. She stood up and tiptoed to where Peggy was sleeping in the bedroom. She lightly touched her shoulder, and Peggy rolled over, blinking her eyes.

Natasha bent down close to her face. “Someone’s at the door,” she whispered. “You stay in here and I’ll go see who it is.”

As Peggy nodded the visitor knocked once more. Peggy’s eyes widened, and she stretched up to kiss Natasha and whispered, “Go.”

Consciously making her footsteps louder, Natasha audibly shut the door to the bedroom as she walked to the front door. When she opened it, she saw Dottie on the other side. Forcing herself to stay calm and indifferent, Natasha asked, “Do I know you?”

Dottie gave a rather convincing fake smile, her hands on her hips. “I think you know exactly who I am.”

“I – I don’t believe we’ve ever met.”

“No, we haven’t,” agreed Dottie, still smiling. “But let’s not play games here, Natasha. You know who I am, I know who you are, and I know who else is here with you. So why don’t you invite me in and we can all have a friendly chat.”

Natasha swallowed. “I’m afraid you’re mistaken,” she dared. “My name’s Vivian Porter. I live here with my neighbor from back home in Virginia. I’ve never met you in my life.”

Dottie’s smile turned cold as she reached into her shirt to pull a small gun out of her bra. She pointed it at Natasha and repeated, “Why don’t you invite me in?”

Slowly Natasha nodded and backed away from the door, allowing Dottie to enter. The other woman, lowering neither her weapon nor her smile, shut the door behind her.

Dropping the façade, Natasha asked, “How did you find me?”

“It was easy.” Dottie started speaking in Russian, as though she knew someone was listening. Did she not know that Peggy spoke Russian fluently? “You need to be careful of who you hire in your SHIELD.”

“I don’t do the hiring,” replied Natasha. “You must know that.” Could she make Dottie talk? Make her admit what she knew?

Dottie nodded. “I know all about your SHIELD,” she said. “How Brady wants you gone. How Quinn expects you to turn back to Leviathan. How Fury has a little crush on you. How Carter is the only one who can stand your presence. I know it all.”

“So you know why I’m here.” Natasha phrased it as a statement, not a question, to stall Dottie. For once she was grateful for the thin walls separating the rooms. Peggy would hear everything Natasha and Dottie were saying, and she’d come to her aid if Dottie started a fight.

“You and Peggy Carter, yes.” Dottie peered around Natasha to the door of the bedroom. “You were sleeping in there with her? How nice. I’m sorry to wake you.”

“Why are you really here?” There had to be a reason for this visit. Dottie could kill them at any point – she didn’t need to knock on their door, she just needed to wait.

Before replying, Dottie stepped over to sit on the couch. Then she said, “I saw you on the stairs today. You looked sick. You were back there, weren’t you?”

Still standing, Natasha didn’t have to ask what she meant. “They’re happening to you, too?”

Dottie nodded, her facial expression slowly becoming more serious. “Since you stopped taking their orders, right?”

“Yeah.” Did this mean that Leviathan wasn’t giving orders to Dottie? And how was she disobeying them if they weren’t? And what was she doing here?

“I knew the SSR had an agent with Leviathan,” Dottie went on. “I followed him home one night and broke in. The memories were making me crazy. I needed information, I needed a new purpose. I needed to be useful.”

Natasha nodded. She understood. And she wondered how long it would take before she would go crazy as well. “He told you to come and kill me.”

The cold smile was back, and Dottie’s grip on her gun tightened. “And that’s exactly what I’m going to do. First you, then Carter. She’s still asleep, yes?”

Matching her cold smile, Natasha said, “I wouldn’t count on taking her down without a fight if I were you.”

“Why do you think I came at three o’clock in the morning?”

“You shouldn’t have come at all if you wanted an easy job of us.” Natasha lunged forward over the coffee table and snapped Dottie’s arm back before she could shoot. Her time away from Leviathan had clearly taken its toll on her.

With her free arm Natasha reached inside her bra to pull out her knife. She held it against the other woman’s throat, returning to English as she said, “I thought you’d be better. Are you sure you were trained in the same Red Room as I was?”

Peggy took this as her cue to step out of the bedroom, holding a gun.

Completely changing her tone, Dottie said, “Oh, gosh, Peggy, it’s been a long time. How are you?”

But Peggy stayed rigid, not fooled by her old enemy’s acting. “Dottie,” was all she said. Then, to Natasha, “Grab her gun and go downstairs to call Daniel. We can be back in New York by tomorrow morning.”

Although Natasha hated taking orders from Peggy – the woman had kissed her earlier, how could she change her tune so quickly – but it wasn’t the time or place to argue. She patted down Dottie to make sure she wasn’t hiding any more weapons, uncovering a knife strapped to her thigh, and then left the apartment.

It was hard to fit the gun and both knives into her bra, but Natasha managed. It was more than a bit uncomfortable, and her breasts looked uneven and lumpy, but that hardly mattered. At this hour no one would be around to see her.

Natasha wondered who was working the night shift as she waited for the call to connect. She hoped it would be Sousa, but it wasn’t his voice that answered.

“This is Director Carter.” Natasha decided that pretending to be Peggy was her best option, since she had no clue who was on the other end of the line. It was more than likely that it was one of the men who had bet against her staying. “We’ve caught Dottie Underwood.”

“That’s great news, Director.” The agent didn’t sound too thrilled as he stifled a yawn, but at least he didn’t see through her faked accent. “You’d like a flight back to SHIELD tomorrow?”

“Yes, first thing in the morning.”

Once the travel plans were arranged, Natasha hung up the phone and went back upstairs. She went to turn the knob to their apartment, but it was locked. Double checking to make sure she was at the right door – she was – she knocked and called out, “Peggy, it’s me, Natasha. Open up. I don’t have my keys.” She waited a little longer and knocked again. “Peggy.”

A door opened, but not the one Natasha was standing in front of. It was her neighbor to the left, a man in his early thirties with a stubbly beard. “What’s going on in there?” he demanded.

“I wish I knew,” replied Natasha. “Have you heard anything?”

The neighbor nodded. “There was a gunshot,” he told her. “It woke me up, but I didn’t hear anything after that. I’m afraid your friend might have done killed herself.”

Natasha knew that wasn’t what happened. She wondered who had fired the shot. “Do you know what I have to do to get an extra key?” she asked her neighbor. “I need to get in.”

He eyed her, not so subtly taking her appearance in. “You’ll have to talk to your landlord this morning,” he said. “He’ll be available at eight, but he’s really crabby if you see him anytime before eleven.”

Natasha nodded. She couldn’t afford to wait that long, but she didn’t want to risk her landlord slamming his door in her face and refusing to help her. She’d have to wait until morning. “Thank you,” she said to her neighbor. Then she started to take a couple steps back, hoping he would take the hint.

Being a man, of course he didn’t. No longer was he bothering to look at her face as he offered, “If you don’t have anywhere else to go, you’re welcome to spend the night with me.”

What would a man like this do if she refused him? She didn’t dare find out, not in the hallway where someone might see. Besides, she had more weapons than hands in her bra. She’d be fine. So she gave him a seductive smile as she said, “I’m all yours.”

The man stepped back to give her room to enter. His apartment was nearly identical to hers, so she didn’t worry about going to the wrong room as she led him to the bed. She paused in the doorway to the bedroom, leaning back against the wooden frame, to slip her panties off. Then she flicked them at the man, who picked her up and carried her to the bed.

On her back, Natasha spread her legs and pulled her neighbor down to her. They kissed sloppily, his lips rough with lust as he supported himself with one hand on the mattress. His other hand rested between her thighs, one, two, three fingers slipping inside her.

She needed him to move his hand, take his fingers out of her and lay his hand flat on the mattress like his other one. Not only was she uncomfortable, but he had to stop so she could make her move.

Finally he pulled his hand back and repositioned himself. Wasting no time, Natasha pulled the knives from her bra, one in each hand, and used them to pin his hands to the mattress. Keeping a firm grip, she scrambled back she he cried out in pain.

Now facing him, Natasha said, “Now, you’re going to listen to me, right?” He just looked at her, eyes wide with fear. “Good. I’m going to take these knives out of your hands. You’re not going to touch me.”

She waited for him to nod before doing so. He gasped in relief as the blades left his skin, but Natasha ignored him as she transferred both knives to her left hand. She then went on, “You’re going to stay in here until I leave tomorrow morning. I’m going to sleep on your couch. If you try to leave,” she paused to pull the gun out of her bra, “I’ll shoot you. Understood?”

Her neighbor nodded again, barely paying attention to her. Natasha had forgotten that most people hadn’t been trained to withstand pain like she was. This man was weak.

With no more orders to give him, Natasha got off the bed. She started to walk out, but then changed her mind. There was something left to say, after all.

“Be careful next time you hit on girls too young for you,” she warned him. “You might get more than you bargained for.” And she slapped his ass as she left the bedroom and shut the door.

Laying on the couch, her knives back in her bra and her gun under the decorative pillow, Natasha prepared herself for a long night.

***

The next morning, Natasha checked the bedroom to see if her neighbor had listened to her. He had; he was still lying asleep on the bed. He’d tried to treat his hands – Natasha could see crude, bloodstained bandages made from the sheets wrapped around the wounds. It was a pity he hadn’t bled out during the night. Men like this were despicable.

But she didn’t have time to deal with him. She had to make sure that Peggy was okay and still had Dottie under control. She closed the door to the bedroom again and left his apartment.

She found the door to her own apartment wide open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had some really bad writers block lately, thanks for sticking with me.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guYS SEASON 2 STARTS THIS TUESDAY HOLY FUCK I AM NOT EMOTIONALLY READY

Shit, this couldn’t be good. This could not be good. Peggy wouldn’t have left without her. Dottie must have somehow managed to overpower Peggy and left. Was that the shot that her neighbor had heard while Natasha called the SSR last night?

She should never have left. She could have made the call in the morning, or at the very least secured Dottie, tied her up so she couldn’t fight back as easily. Stupid. Natasha was stupid.

And that was why Dottie had come at three in the morning. She’d known Natasha would make a mistake.

Expecting the worst, Natasha rounded the entryway with Dottie’s gun at the ready. The sitting room was undisturbed. A peek into the kitchen showed her the same. She’d known this, really. The door to the bedroom was shut. Whoever had been shot, she’d be in there.

Throwing all caution to the wind, Natasha kicked down the door and quickly scanned the room. She smelled stale blood before she saw anyone. Stepping around the end of the bed, Natasha found Peggy lying on her back on the floor, her hands crossed over a worrying stain on her stomach.

She fell to her knees next to Peggy’s body. There was no need to keep her weapon ready. Dottie was long gone by now anyway. She could mourn her loss with her guard down.

And even if Dottie came back to finish her off, it didn’t matter. Not to Natasha, not anymore. Peggy was the only person who liked her, trusted her, believed in her. With her gone, Natasha was nothing. She wasn’t on Leviathan’s side, or SHIELD’s. None of this mattered to her, as long as she survived. Natasha put her hand on Peggy’s shoulder, on the verge of tears.

But…

Wait. Was she still breathing?

This couldn’t be possible. A shot straight through the stomach like this, that long ago, there was no way she could have survived it. But Natasha knew she couldn’t be imagining it. She’d never been one for wishful thinking.

“Peggy?” she whispered. “Peggy? Peggy. Come on, Peg.” Natasha shook her gently.

At some point Peggy’s eyelids fluttered and her head turned, and Natasha breathed a sigh of relief. “Peggy?” she repeated, louder this time. “Are you okay? How?”

The other woman groaned. “She got away.”

“It’s okay,” Natasha tried to comfort her, putting her hand on Peggy’s shoulder, her forehead, her hand. “You’re alive. That’s the important thing.”

“So is Dottie.” Peggy tried to sit up, but Natasha held her down.

“You’ve been shot in the stomach,” said Natasha. “You’ll have to stay here until I can take care of that for you.”

Peggy smirked. “No, you’re wrong,” she protested, moving her hands from her stomach. Blood had stained her dress, but there were no bullet holes in her skin. “When we were fighting for the gun, she shot it straight through my hand. I passed it off as a shot to the stomach, and she left me in here.”

“She didn’t come back to make sure you were dead?” That was a lesson all the girls in the Red Room learned the hard way. If Dottie didn’t double check, that must mean that she didn’t care if she’d killed Peggy or not.

“She thought she shot me in the stomach, she didn’t need to.”

Natasha didn’t pursue the topic, instead saying, “Show me your hand.”

Peggy obliged, and Natasha gently took it in hers, examining the wound. The bullet had entered near the base of her thumb and exited through the middle of the back of her hand. The skin around the wound had already started to decay. If Natasha didn’t do something quickly, the infection would spread too far through Peggy’s blood and there would be nothing that could be done.

“Stay right here,” said Natasha, as if Peggy was going to go anywhere. “I’ll be right back in.” Then she stood up and left the bedroom. Damned if she was going to let Peggy die.

Their apartment was mostly empty, as they knew they weren’t going to stay there for long. But they’d had the foresight to buy emergency medical supplied. Natasha knew there wouldn’t be everything she needed to help Peggy, but she’d make do.

Before reentering the bedroom, Natasha pot a pot of water on the stove and turned on the flame. Boiling water would disinfect her knives, but she was too impatient to wait for the water to reach a boil. The infection in Peggy’s wound wasn’t going to stop spreading while the water heated.

While she was waiting, Natasha poured a glass of cold water for Peggy and picked a banana off the counter. Peggy had lost quite a bit of blood during the night, and she needed to eat to build her strength back up. Especially since Natasha was going to perform a risky operation on her.

Well, it wasn’t that risky. It wouldn’t kill Peggy any more than her current wound would. It was just that the unorthodox procedure was less than ideal, and Natasha wasn’t a real doctor. Everything she knew about medicine, she’d learned through trial and error in Russia, while attempting to heal her own injuries.

Natasha carried all her supplies back into the bedroom, where Peggy still lay on the floor. “Shit, you must be uncomfortable,” she said, feeling awkward that she just now realized this. She dragged one of the pillows off the bed and put it under Peggy’s head; there wasn’t much else she could do.

Attempting a smile, Peggy said, “Thanks. But believe me, I’ve been in worse situations before.”

“Sounds like a story.” There was no anesthetic, nothing to numb the pain of what she was about to do. So maybe if she could get Peggy to talk about something, anything really, her concentration on what she was saying might distract from the pain.

There was going to be a lot of pain.

As Peggy spoke, telling some story about being in France in 1945 right at the end of the war, Natasha uncapped a bottle of rubbing alcohol. She poured some on a towel to disinfect what she could of the wound on Peggy’s hand.

The story wasn’t distraction enough – the burn of the alcohol made Peggy scream out in agony.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” said Natasha. It was harder doing this to someone else. She didn’t want to hurt Peggy. Even though she knew that this was helping heal her, Natasha still hated to hear her friend cry out from the pain. “This isn’t even the worst of it, it’s going to hurt a lot more, I’m sorry.”

“Do what you have to do.” Peggy’s words were ragged with pain. “I can take it.”

“I can take you to a doctor, a real one,” said Natasha. She probably should have thought of that first. They went to doctors here in America. She wasn’t in the Red Room, where the only doctor available was yourself. “They could help you better than I can.”

“No, no,” replied Peggy, adjusting the pillow with her uninjured hand. “Go on. I trust you, Natasha.”

So Natasha did her best to block out Peggy’s screams and cries as she cut off the dead skin around the entry and exit wounds, cleaned them again for good measure, and bandaged them with tape and gauze. “You’ve probably fractured one of the bones in your hand, too,” she told Peggy. “But there’s nothing I can do about that right now.”

She glanced around, and her gaze fell on the banana and glass of water. Right. “Here, I found breakfast for you.” Natasha helped Peggy into a sitting position and peeled the banana for her.

“Thanks.” Peggy’s voice was steady, but Natasha still noticed the sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Peggy was going to be okay. Knowing that she had helped her, that she had done something good, calmed Natasha’s racing heart as she sat next to her friend.

Natasha had chosen to sit a respectable distance away from Peggy, but the other woman scooted over until their bodies touched, and leaned into her shoulder.

This was too dangerous – Natasha couldn’t let herself – but she did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading <3


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since the last chapter. But school started again so my mental health kinda tanked and I'm in a constant state of wanting to die. I'll update when I can though.

They’d missed the flight Natasha had arranged with the SSR agent last night. Peggy suggested that Natasha go downstairs and call SHIELD to let them know that they were alright while she recovered on the sofa.

But Natasha refused. “I’m not leaving you again,” she said. “You’re coming with me to make the call. It doesn’t matter if Dottie sees you anymore, if she comes back.” Honestly, she doubted that Dottie would return so soon, if at all.

If she were Dottie, Natasha would leave the city. Contact her superior to let them know that there was a complication and the mission was going to take longer than originally assumed.

The two of them went downstairs together to make the call. There was no sign of Dottie as Natasha phoned Daniel Sousa to tell him what had happened.

“You’re both alive?” he asked. “Is Peggy okay?”

With her good hand Peggy grabbed the receiver from Natasha and said, “For heaven’s sake, Daniel, I’m fine. You heard Natasha, she sewed up my hand. Stop worrying about me. I have Nat.” Then she handed it back to Natasha.

“She calls you Nat now?”

Overhearing, Peggy rolled her eyes and mouthed to Natasha, “He’s just jealous.”

The corner of her lips curling upward, Natasha replied, “Yeah, but don’t you start.”

“Noted,” said Sousa dryly. “Should I arrange another flight for you? I can see if there are any more for later today.”

“Yeah, that would be – no?” Natasha changed her answer when she saw Peggy shaking her head. “No, it looks like we’re not ready to come back yet. I’ll let you know what’s going on.” And she hung up the phone and said to Peggy, “Why do you want to stay here?”

Quietly, Peggy told her, “Because I don’t think Dottie left. We can still take her back to SHIELD.”

“Of course she left,” argued Natasha. “She failed to kill me, so she went somewhere else to bide her time until she can get me. She could be anywhere.”

Peggy shook her head. “Her mission was to kill you, not me,” she reminded her. “She knew we were friendly, and she wants you to go after her to avenge me.”

That was certainly plausible. “Where do you suppose she might be?” It would be hard for Natasha to chase down Dottie if she didn’t know where to find her.

“What room did her rent?” asked Peggy. “She might have left something behind that would give us a clue.”

Natasha shook her head. “We were trained better than that. Don’t leave any evidence of your life behind. You never know who knows what to look for.”

“But if she wants you to find her…”

But Natasha just shrugged. She had no damn idea what Dottie was planning. “It has to be somewhere obvious.” Trying to think of where that might be, she shook her head again. “But I don’t know where.”

“Is there anyplace here that’s owned by Leviathan?” suggested Peggy.

“Damned if I know.” Though she was quick to dismiss the idea, it got her mind racing, trying to remember. “The other day, when we were looking for Dottie, didn’t we pass a bar called Jim’s Slain Serpent?” Why couldn’t Natasha remember exactly where it was? She’d been trained to remember details, not forget them.

Now Peggy shrugged. “We might have. What does it matter?”

Natasha licked her lips before replying. “Have you never read the bible?”

“I haven’t been to Sunday mass since I was ten years old,” said Peggy. “I’ve never been a good Christian woman. Why do you ask?”

“In the bible, leviathan is some sort of sea monster,” explained Natasha. “She must have seen us near there and assumed I’d make the connection.”

Narrowing her eyes, Peggy said, “Are you sure? That’s a bit of a stretch.”

No, she wasn’t sure. But for now it was all she had. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Peggy nodded. “When are we leaving?”

“We,” emphasized Natasha, pointedly raising her eyebrows at Peggy, “Are not going anywhere.”

“You can’t go alone,” argued Peggy. “Natasha, you could die.”

“We should take this upstairs,” said Natasha, eyeing a couple who were walking from the stairs to the door. “Don’t want the wrong people overhearing us.”

So they walked back up to their apartment, and no sooner had Peggy shut the door than she said, “You are not going to face Dottie alone. I can’t lose you to her.”

“She thinks you’re dead,” insisted Natasha. “And in case you hadn’t noticed, you got shot through the hand. You’re not going to be able to fight.”

Peggy huffed. Did she know Natasha was right? “I only need one hand to shoot a gun.”

“I’m not letting you get yourself killed because you’re too damn stubborn to know when you should sit out of a fight,” said Natasha. “I know how Dottie fights, we were trained the same way. I’ll be fine.”

Whispering, Peggy asked, “How do you know?” Then she grabbed Natasha and slammed her into the wall. Punctuating each word with a kiss, she went on, “I – am – not – losing – you.”

Why did Peggy feel this way about her? And why did Natasha have to fight so hard not to feel the same way back? For now, she let the other woman kiss her, even kissing her back, as she wrestled with the emotions she’d taught herself never to feel.

Even when Peggy pulled back from Natasha’s lips, she kept her pinned against the wall with the forearm of her injured hand. With her good hand she gently held Natasha’s face, heavily contrasting the pressure she was putting on her throat. “Natasha.” It was barely a breath.

“Peggy?” Natasha matched her tone, but she had no idea what was on the other’s mind.

That was when Peggy pulled on her hair and kissed her hard, lips full of passion. It surprised Natasha at first, but she knew how to respond with the same intensity. Their lips danced together with an electricity that Natasha had never felt before.

When Peggy pulled away, they were both breathless. With a smirk, Natasha broke the silence, “No matter how you kiss me, I’m not gonna let you go after Dottie.”

“I know,” replied Peggy. “But I will not sit here wondering if you’ll come back or not.”

“What else can you do?” Natasha said bluntly. She knew that it would wound Peggy’s pride, implying that she was useless for this, but it wasn’t the time to tiptoe over eggshell feelings.

Peggy shook her head. “Whatever you need,” she answered. “Just don’t make me sit idly by while you risk your life trying to do what I failed.”

It couldn’t really hurt to have Peggy come along, could it? And maybe she could help. Natasha couldn’t let her fight hand-to-hand against Dottie with her, but she could wait outside and cover her if she needed to make a quick getaway. “Alright,” she agreed. “You can come with me, but you’ll have to wait outside.”

A smile stole across Peggy’s lips as she said, “I can agree to that.” She paused, and then went on, “Now, are you going to let me kiss you again?”

Natasha jokingly held her hands up in a gesture of surrender. “Who am I to stop you?”

So Peggy moved in, the smile still on her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do y'all think of Sousa's girlfriend? I'm hoping she's not just there for love triangle purposes and there's gonna be a plot twist involving her somehow, but I'm not sure we can exactly count on the writers of the show for that. Fuck love triangles tbh


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fucking hell it's been so long since I've worked on this sorry lmao. I hope y'all are still interested in the story.
> 
> In case you care about my life at all: my mental health is so much better than it used to be. Like now I'm happy to be alive instead of wishing I was anything but. That's part of the reason I had to stop writing, I didn't even have the energy to take care of myself. I'm on summer break (which means I have to deal with abusive parents every day yay) so I'll probably have more time to work on this.
> 
> To be consistent with the plot from the earlier chapters, we are going to pretend that acs2 never happened bc that sure was a disappointment. And we are definitely going to not have Steve be hydra. I'm literally not spending any money on marvel until they get their shit together.
> 
> Also, this chapter has a rape mention. Once you get to the part with Dottie, you can skip the rest, it'll be easy enough to figure out what happened when I post the next chapter

It didn’t take them long to find the bar. The man renting the room next to theirs was all too happy to point them in the right direction. When they left him alone again, Peggy turned to Natasha.

“Is it better if I don’t ask what you did to him?”

It probably was, but Natasha told her anyway. “Last night, when Dottie locked me out of the room, he was kind enough to share his bed since I had nowhere else to go.”

Reading between the lines, Peggy nodded, understanding how the rest of the night must have played out. “Why didn’t you just take him down before you went inside?”

“We were in the hallway, anyone could have seen.” It would have gone against everything she had trained for. Never let anyone know what you can do until it’s too late.

Not that she was expecting a terribly dangerous enemy in the apartment building at three in the morning – aside from Dottie, who already knew about her anyway – but Natasha was still struggling to adapt her learnt behaviors to the American lifestyle. And that was an endeavor which should be going a lot better than it was.

Natasha was still working as a spy in America, that hadn’t changed. Perhaps that was why she couldn’t easily adjust to life across the ocean. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder why it wasn’t easier. SHIELD was the opposite of Leviathan – they didn’t train any agent to kill, let alone young girls. They killed as little as possible, preferring to take prisoners for questioning or ransom. And communication was easier with SHIELD – Natasha felt very little fear when delivering a report or requesting more information, things that would risk punishment from her superiors in Russia.

So why couldn’t she adjust to SHIELD? Maybe it was simply become second nature to her to torture and kill her enemies and sometimes her allies. Maybe she’d trained in the Red Room too long to be able to forget anything she’d learned. Whatever the case, Natasha had stabbed the man who had nearly raped her, and Peggy didn’t approve.

Or so she thought. Peggy stopped walking and glanced behind them, to the closed door of their neighbor’s room. “I’ve half a mind to go back there and finish him off myself.”

“Leave him,” muttered Natasha, grabbing Peggy’s arm. “He’s not worth it.” Not to mention that it wasn’t likely he’d do such a thing again, not with the scars in his hands as reminders.

“Are you sure?”

Natasha could tell that Peggy wanted nothing more than the slightest indication of approval to go back and give their neighbor a piece of her mind. But it was unnecessary. “We don’t get a pass to kill people just because we’re with SHIELD,” she said. “It’s something Leviathan would do.”

“I never said I wanted to kill him,” protested Peggy. “Just teach him a lesson.”

In spite of her words, Natasha could tell that Peggy was out for blood. “He’s already learned it.”

Peggy raised an eyebrow at her. “He needs to hear it from me.”

“Hear what from you, exactly?”

“That no one can touch my Natasha.”

Trying to get Peggy in a less violent mood, Natasha teased, “Oh, so I’m your Natasha now?”

With her good hand, Peggy grabbed Natasha’s shoulder and slammed her into the wall. “Yes,” she growled. “You’re my Natasha.”

Never before had Natasha felt such passion for another person and kissed her unapologetically. Soon, though, Peggy pulled back, but Natasha could taste the reluctance on her lips.

“This isn’t the right place,” murmured Peggy, and Natasha understood. There was never a right place for a couple of queer girls.

Natasha licked her lips and pushed herself away from the wall. The tension between the two of them was at an all time high. Natasha had never wanted to kiss someone as bad as she wanted Peggy, and she knew that Peggy felt the same about her.

Somehow they managed to leave the building and catch the train, electricity crackling with every accidental touch. And once their stop approached it was next to impossible to resist grabbing her hand.

It didn’t take very long for Natasha and Peggy to find the bar. Just across the street, they paused to talk strategy.

“You’ll stay outside, just around here,” Natasha told Peggy. “I’m gonna need you to cover for me in case I need to run.”

But Peggy shook her head. “I’m coming in with you,” she insisted. “You need me.”

“I need you alive,” corrected Natasha. “Your chances are better out here.”

“No,” refused Peggy. “I know I can’t do much with my hand like this, but you can still use my help.” She put a hand on Natasha’s shoulder, her touch gentle this time. “I don’t want to lose you in there.”

“You’re the director of SHIELD,” argued Natasha. “If only one of us can make it back to New York, it has to be you.” That was only part of the reason why she didn’t want Peggy inside with her. She didn’t expect she’d die – she’d been in fights with much worse odds and still made it out okay.

No, Natasha wasn’t worried about getting either herself or Peggy killed. The truth was that she didn’t want Peggy to have to watch her fight. Her training had been unorthodox, as they both knew, but Peggy had never seen it for herself. And it wasn’t anything Natasha would want her to see.

But she couldn’t say any of that aloud. Peggy would protest, reassure her that it didn’t matter. She really liked Natasha, of course it would change nothing.

Still, Natasha didn’t know if that would still be true after Peggy saw her. Peggy was merciful, while Natasha had been trained to kill. In situations like this, could the two of them work together, fight together? Or were they too different?

That was something Natasha knew she was better off not finding out. In spite of all her efforts, she had grown to care for Peggy, and she didn’t want to know the pain of losing a friend.

“Natasha?” Peggy’s voice dragged her out of her thoughts. She raised an eyebrow at Peggy, who went on, “I’m not losing you.”

The words were strong, and Natasha knew that Peggy wouldn’t let Dottie kill her. As if there was a chance of that ever happening. Not now that Natasha could see she had something to live for.

“Wait here,” was all Natasha ended up saying, still not letting Peggy needlessly risk her life to take down Dottie. She knew she could do it herself, and Peggy had to make it back to New York alive.

Surprisingly, Peggy nodded, and Natasha headed for the bar, the distance between them growing with each step. The lock on the door was broken, so Natasha easily pushed it open and entered, weapons at the ready.

Looking around before taking more than a few steps inside, Natasha could see no one. This was the right place, evidenced by the broken lock, so why was there nobody here?

Maybe it was the wrong place, after all. It was a weak connection, and the broken lock could have been a coincidence. Was this a safe part of the city? Maybe not. Natasha had no idea.

The gunshot behind her answered her question. Natasha whirled around to see Dottie, her eyes wide in shock as she fell. One hand flew to her stomach, the other dropped the handgun she was holding. Another shot rang out, and Dottie fell forward.

In the doorway behind her was Peggy, her gun still raised.

“I thought I told you to wait outside,” smirked Natasha, relaxing as Peggy hopped over Dottie’s body toward her.

“Alright, then next time I won’t save your life,” Peggy sassed back. “That’s clearly what you want.”

Natasha gave Peggy a one-armed hug as the latter kissed her cheek. “I want you to follow my directions.”

Pulling back from Natasha’s grip, Peggy scoffed. “I’m your boss, you should be taking orders from me. Not the other way around.”

Her lips twisting into a smile, Natasha put her finger to Peggy’s lips and simply said, “No.” The she mover her finger as she leaned in for a kiss.

No sooner had their lips touched than a disturbance farther inside the bar interrupted them. A group of men dressed all in black popped out from behind the bar. They didn’t appear to be armed, but they would still put up a hell of a fight.

Gently pushing Peggy behind her, Natasha squeezed the handle of her blade. She should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. She should have guessed that Dottie wouldn’t come alone. A lot could go wrong on a solo mission against a Black Widow agent. Of course Dottie would be more than prepared.

Natasha sprinted across the floor, hurtling over the chairs in her way. She almost completely ignored the first man there, leaping up to use his shoulders to propel herself forward. The motion knocked him to the floor and launched Natasha into the next man. She grabbed the hand he tried to swing at her and bent his fingers back, hearing the satisfactory snap as they broke, and kneed him in the groin.

Her knife flew out of her hand, hitting a third man directly in the eye. Natasha had aimed for the throat, but since she’d barely glanced at him before throwing the knife that would have to do.

Then she slammed this man’s head into the hard surface of the bar and prepared for the next three. When two of them approached her, she grabbed one of their necks and pulled herself up to squeeze the other’s head between her thighs. She let them go when she felt the snaps at her fingers and thighs, landing on her feet as the men collapsed under her.

One more. Was it fear that Natasha could read on his face as he stepped closer to her? A shot rang out, and the last Leviathan agent fell to the ground.

Natasha dared a glance at Peggy. This wasn’t at all how she’d imagined the scenario would play out. What did the other woman think of her now? Now that she’d seen what Natasha truly was capable of, now that she’d seen her kill?

It didn’t seem to faze Peggy in the slightest. In fact, she was reacting entirely the opposite of how Natasha had expected. Peggy wasn’t running from her, she didn’t look afraid. Was that actually surprising, though? Natasha had told her so many stories of what she had done with Leviathan; how much worse could seeing it in person actually be?

Dropping the gun, Peggy pulled Natasha into a hot kiss, her good hand flitting from Natasha’s elbow to her face and finally settling on her hip. They stayed like that until they heard one of the men stir.

It was the first man, the one Natasha had pushed down instead of killing. She stepped over the other men to him. He hadn’t quite recovered enough to fight back as Natasha roughly grabbed him by the shirt and snapped his arm behind his back. Ignoring his scream of pain, Natasha turned to Peggy and asked, “What should we do with this one? Do you want to bring him back to SHIELD? He could have useful information for us.”

He spat at her and snarled, “I’ll never tell you anything.”

Calmly Natasha twisted his arm. He screamed again, and Natasha couldn’t help but smile coldly at the high his pain gave her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have p much the rest of the story planned out, I just haven't written it yet. But if anybody has any suggestions feel free to comment them and I can try to fit them into what I've got. And I'll also try not to disappear for months again like I just did lmao but it's unlikely since I have a better hold on my life now
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you think :) <3


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm tryna not be an asshole and update semiregularly. I still feel really bad about that. I hope nobody hates me.
> 
> I've got a couple chapters already planned out, just gotta fill in the details and go back and review them. I've also got a lot of the rest of the story sketched out, when I smooth out the complications I should be good. Hold me to that though, annoy the shit out of me if I disappear again.
> 
> For now, enjoy this chapter :)

They had phoned Sousa from the bar, who arranged a private flight to take them back to New York. Then they called the Miami police force to clean up the Leviathan agents – they had to wait for them to show up before they could leave, to prove that they were with SHIELD and that the men were enemies of the state. Before they left, Peggy wrote out an apology and a check and left them on the bar to explain what had happened and to pay for a locksmith.

It turned out that Howard Stark was their pilot. He helped them tie the Leviathan agent to one of the seats before taking off. Natasha stayed silent throughout, preferring to listen to the banter between Peggy and Stark.

“Have you slept with any more Russian spies that we should know about?” said Peggy. “You seem to have a real knack for picking them out.”

“They pick me out, Peg,” Stark teased. “But no, I have not.”

“I suppose we’ll find out about that one soon enough.”

“Speaking of which,” said Stark, “have you two gotten together yet? You and Natasha – she’s exactly your type, right, Peg?”

Peggy turned her head to give him a sharp glare. “Regardless, she never liked you.”

With his famous Howard Stark smile, he said, “I knew it. You like her, Peg. When can I watch you two in bed, hmm?”

Giving no warning, Peggy punched Stark square on the jaw. “Stop trying to get into my bed, Howard, because it’s never going to work.”

“I’ll assume that’s a no, then,” replied Stark, rubbing his jaw, which was already starting to turn red. “Well, it couldn’t hurt to ask.”

The flight couldn’t end soon enough, but finally they landed in New York. The three of them brought the Leviathan agent back to SHIELD’s headquarters. Stark left for the science labs, and Natasha took their prisoner to a private interrogation room while Peggy went to talk to Sousa.

“I hope they’ll let me question you,” commented Natasha, knowing she wouldn’t get a response. That wasn’t why she was speaking aloud. “These Americans are too nice. They’ll go easy on you. And you know why? Because none of them were trained to kill. None of them know how much torture it takes to break someone.”

She started rubbing his shoulders, as if to comfort him, but they both knew that wasn’t her intent.

As expected, there was no verbal reply. But Natasha could still feel him tense up as she went on, “But those are the things I was taught since I was six years old. The amount of pain you can handle without dying is higher than the Americans think. I know. I’ve tortured and killed so many I’ve lost track. On your orders. And I’d love to get revenge.” She leaned in to breathe into his ear, “Think about that when I come back in.”

She left him chained to the table there to join Peggy in Sousa’s office.

“Natasha, hello,” he greeted her. “Peggy was just telling me how the mission went.”

Peggy looked at Natasha from her perch on Sousa’s desk. “I’ve only gotten to the part where we found Dottie,” she elaborated. “But you know more about the rest than I do. Care to take over?”

“Yeah, but first I’m taking you to a real doctor,” said Natasha. “With real disinfectant and real stitches. Someone who actually knows what they’re doing.”

“Oh all right.” Peggy made no effort to hide her exasperation as she pushed herself off Sousa’s desk.

Once Peggy was with a doctor who actually knew what he was doing, Natasha went back up the stairs to Sousa’s office.

After she shut the door and sat down in one of the wooden chairs, he said, “I told her to go see one of SHIELD’s doctors as soon as I saw her hand, but she refused. Why does she listen to you, but not me?”

Natasha shrugged, though she knew exactly why. “You know Peggy,” she replied. “She’s too stubborn to obey anyone’s orders. That’s why she made herself director of SHIELD.”

“Yes, but why does she listen to you?” Sousa was so frustrated, Natasha found it hard not to laugh.

“When a Russian tells you to do something,” she said, staring intensely at him, “you do it.”

“If you’re trying to hypnotize me, it won’t work,” he said. “I’ve seen it. I’m not a fan.”

Yes, that was right – Leviathan had sent the doctor to the SSR. It was a good play, but Peggy was the ace the SSR didn’t even know they had hidden up their sleeve. Now he was rotting away in a prison cell somewhere, mouth clamped shut, if Natasha’s information was correct.

“Not hypnosis. Experience,” Natasha corrected Sousa. “I’ve said it before. I was my own doctor since I was six years old. If I can’t fix you, you better go find someone else who can.”

Sousa leaned closer to her. It made her somewhat uncomfortable, even though he was sitting all the way on the other side of his desk, but she didn’t move. “Is there something between you and Peggy that I should know about?” he asked her.

“No,” Natasha answered truthfully. Whatever it was that was going on between her and Peggy, it was between her and Peggy. Sousa didn’t need to know about it – it didn’t concern him.

But he didn’t believe her. “Are you sure?”

“Ask Peggy if you really want to know,” replied Natasha. It was unlikely that Peggy would tell him anything different. “There’s nothing between us that you need to know.”

“Very well,” agreed Sousa. “Now why don’t you finish telling me about your mission, and then we can start interrogating the man you captured.”

So Natasha did, starting where Peggy had said she left off. She made sure not to give away any personal events, keeping her story professional and brief.

It was enough for Sousa who was taking down notes of what she was saying. To make sure he had written everything correctly, he read the, back to her. “So you spent the first few weeks looking for Dottie. Then you found her living in the same building. She attacked you, almost killed Peggy, and left. You killed her and five others in a bar. You took one prisoner who is not in custody of SHIELD and the SSR.” Sousa raised his eyebrows at Natasha. “Sound right?”

She nodded once.

“I’ll call in Thompson, he’s usually the one to do the interrogations.”

This was what Natasha had been afraid of. “With all due respect, Chief,” she protested, “but I should be the one to interrogate him.”

Sousa folded his hands and asked her, “Why is that? Thompson’s had plenty of experience, he knows how to make people talk.”

“Not like I do,” she said. “And I grew up training for Leviathan. I was with them. I’ll know if he’s telling the truth because I know more about Leviathan than Thompson does.”

“I’m sorry, Natasha,” said Sousa. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. You can watch the interrogation from the connecting room and let us know if he’s telling the truth.”

Natasha leaned forward. “You know as well as I do that I’m the best for the job,” she said. “I’ve been doing this since I was thirteen. I know how to break a person without even touching them. Can Thompson say that? Can he threaten to kill someone, and mean it?”

“We’re not planning on killing him, Natasha,” Sousa said firmly.

“He doesn’t know that.”

This made Sousa pause, but still he said, “For the last time, Natasha. Thompson will be the one conducting the interrogation. You’ll have to settle with watching him.”

“You’re making a mistake,” she told him as she stood up.

“Good to know,” replied Sousa dryly.

Natasha left his office and walked down a flight of stairs to see Peggy in the infirmary. The doctors had finished with her for now, so she was just sitting in one of the beds, reading a newspaper.

“Peggy?” She wondered if the other woman wanted to see her or not.

It turned out that she had nothing to worry about. Peggy put down her newspaper and smiled, saying, “It’s about time you showed up. I could have died, you know.”

Natasha shook her head. “You wouldn’t have died,” she said. “The worst that could have happened was if the infection spread, and they had to cut your hand off. Can I see it?”

Chuckling, Peggy twisted and held out her hand for Natasha. “They gave me something to numb the pain,” she told Natasha. “It was much nicer than having my skin cut open on the floor.”

“It wasn’t like we had anesthetic just lying around,” Natasha defended herself.

“I’m teasing, Nat,” said Peggy. “I know you did the best you could.”

Natasha nodded as she looked around. “Is there anyone else here?”

“Doctor Wen stepped out for a smoke just before you got here,” explained Peggy. “When he comes back he’ll change the bandage and I’ll be good to go.”

Inspecting Peggy’s hand a little closer, Natasha asked, “Is he going to get the bones back in place? The bullet dislodged the ones in your thumb, possibly others. If they heal wrong you’ll lose full mobility of your hand.”

“You can yell at him when he comes back,” Peggy told her.

“I will,” promised Natasha. “When will he be back?”

Peggy just shrugged. “Half an hour or so. Will you stay with me?”

“Of course, Peggy.” The other woman patted the space on the cot next to her, and Natasha sat down. “What’s in the paper today?”

Blinking, it took Peggy a second to remember the newspaper she’d just put down. “Oh, Angie’s in it,” she told Natasha. “There’s an article about the movie she’ll be in.”

Fuck. Natasha had forgotten about Angie. “What does she know about me?” she asked Peggy.

“I told her the truth not long after you’d joined SHIELD,” Peggy replied. “She was angry at you, for lying to her and nearly killing me.”

That spared her that awkward conversation.

“She was angry at me, too, for letting you stay with me and join SHIELD,” Peggy added with a smile. “It’s the most angry I think she’s ever been.”

“What do you think will happen when she comes back?”

“Oh, I don’t expect she’s still angry,” said Peggy. “I think you should call her. I have the number.”

“Call her?” Was Peggy crazy? She couldn’t call the girl she’d lied to, the girl who had done nothing wrong but be friends with the wrong woman. “What would I say to her?”

Peggy’s smile turned into a smirk. “I imagine an apology would be a good start.”

“Does she know about us yet? Whatever we are?”

“No. And I’d advise against telling her so soon.”

It took until Dr. Wen returned, bringing with him the smell of cigar smoke, for Peggy to convince Natasha to call Angie. But even as Natasha scolded the doctor for not setting Peggy’s broken bones in place she swore to herself she’d put it off for as long as she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howard Stark is my favorite character to write tbh. Like I'm not sure if I'm getting Nat and Peggy right or not, but I know I've got Howard.
> 
> I would really love it if you let me know what you think of it. Like, is my writing okay? Am I doing the characters justice? I just don't know


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise 2 am update
> 
> Kind of a short blurb with not much going on. But I've got up to chapter 40 written, I'll probably get those ones up soon.

As long as she could turned out to be not long after she and Peggy arrived home that evening. “Why don’t you call Angie now?” suggested Peggy. “The number’s by the phone in my bedroom.” So Natasha went up to Peggy’s bedroom and dialed the number written on a notepad next to the receiver. She barely dared to breathe while her call connected.

“Hello?” Angie’s perpetually cheerful voice answered, and Natasha nearly hung up. She didn’t want to destroy the other’s good mood.

“Angie? It’s Natasha. Natalie. Natalia?” She wondered which name Angie knew her by.

“Natasha.” Angie’s voice turned so cold, Natasha could almost feel the iciness through the line. “Why are you calling? Did English put you up to this?”

Hesitating only slightly, Natasha said, “I wanted to apologize, Angie. I shouldn’t have done what I did to you. But please understand, if I thought I’d had any choice, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“You didn’t have to pretend to love me.”

Staring at the notes written in Peggy’s rough penmanship, Natasha swallowed. “I know,” she replied. “For that, I’ve got no excuse. I hated doing it too. You were so sweet to me, and I was using you to get close to Peggy.”

“I know.”

What was Angie thinking? Natasha couldn’t tell over the phone. “For what it’s worth,” she added, not knowing if she was making the situation better or worse, “I couldn’t do it. After spending the time in America, and with you two, it became obvious that it was Peggy who deserved to live, not me. Peggy found me right before I shot myself.”

Silence. Natasha just let it be. It was almost painful, but she needed to know what Angie was thinking. What was she going to say to that?

Eventually a reply came. “What changed?”

“Peggy showed me that there were more than two options,” said Natasha. “In Russia, I’d learned that either you completed your mission, or you were killed. Peggy was the only one who’d ever offered an alternative to that.”

“How do I know I can trust you not to kill her?”

“I don’t expect you to ever trust me, not after… She’s saved my life more than once,” Natasha told Angie. “And I owe her for that. And we’ve been living together since I got here, I’ve had plenty of chances to do it. But I’ve saved her life, sort of. Does any of that matter to you?”

Angie paused. “If she dies, I’ll know who did it.”

“Fair enough.” Natasha guessed that that was the best she was going to get. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I hope you can forgive me for lying to you and Peggy.”

There was no response, save for the click of Angie hanging up the phone.

As Natasha put down her own receiver, she looked around Peggy’s bedroom. It was similar to her own in shape and design, but Natasha didn’t have the array of personal items displayed proudly on the dresser.

Should she take a look around? After a mental debate she decided against it. She didn’t want to betray Peggy’s trust, and besides, the other would likely show them off herself.

So Natasha left Peggy’s bedroom and headed to the sitting room, where Peggy was relaxing on the sofa. Upon Natasha’s arrival, Peggy sat up and scooted to the side to make room. “How did it go?” she asked as Natasha sat down next to her.

“She doesn’t trust me not to kill you,” Natasha told her. “But that’s not unexpected.”

“I trust you,” said Peggy, putting an arm around Natasha’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, she’ll come around eventually.”

Natasha said nothing, simply snuggling in closer to Peggy.

The two sat together for awhile, in comfortable silence, until finally Peggy said, “I’m going to go to bed soon. Care to join me?”

It was phrased carefully, and Natasha knew exactly what Peggy was really asking her. “Not tonight,” she declined. She didn’t know if she would ever be able to join Peggy in bed. She’d hoped that when she’d stopped working for Leviathan and allied herself with SHIELD that she wouldn’t have to sleep with anyone, ever. But she hadn’t counted on having a girlfriend, a real one.

Peggy would expect it at some point, wouldn’t she? That was what people did in relationships like this. As much as Natasha hated sex, she liked Peggy. She could do it to make Peggy happy. That was what people did in relationships. Right? They sacrificed something they wanted so the other could be happy.

But Peggy didn’t seem to mind, at least for tonight. She just kissed Natasha’s hair as she stood up and said, “Goodnight then. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight.”

There was no tension because of what Natasha had said, and she wasn’t about to create any. But that didn’t change the fact that they’d have to talk about it eventually. And Natasha would have to admit the extent to which the Red Room broke her.

Was she broken, for not wanting sex? For being disgusted by the very act? She couldn’t be the only one, could she? There were millions of people in New York, there had to be somebody else like her. Didn’t there? Or was she just crazy?

These were the questions that Natasha pondered as she headed to her own bedroom. But even though she closed the doors, she didn’t lock them.

Maybe she’d be fixed in the morning.

***

Natasha sat between Peggy and Sousa, the three of them watching Agent Thompson question their Leviathan prisoner. So far, they hadn’t gotten anything useful out of him.

Thompson’s techniques were more effective than Natasha had figured. He wasn’t afraid to use his fists, which somewhat surprised her. But that was the extent of it, which wasn’t a surprise at all. The Americans had only been trained to attack the body, not the mind.

That was why Natasha should be the one to interrogate him, or at least work with Thompson instead of sitting uselessly in the adjoining room.

After awhile, Thompson took a break and joined them in the viewing room. Directly facing Natasha, he asked her, “Did he say anything you didn’t already know?”

She shook her head. “You should ask him more direct questions about his role with Leviathan,” she advised him. “Where he’s really from, how he got involved with them. Things like that.” Answers she didn’t have.

Thompson nodded, running a hand through his hair. “I need a drink,” he said to no one in particular.

Soon after, he resumed his interrogation, and they finally learned something. The prisoner’s name was Kamil, and he’d been a Czech shoemaker before the war. He’d gotten involved with Leviathan via his brother, Dominik, who had lived in Russia for a couple years and was recruited in 1937.

When the war started, Dominik was sent to fight in Russia’s army, and never came back. Meanwhile Kamil trained in medicine under some of Leviathan’s best doctors, and was sent to various battlefields in wartime and worked with young girls off the warfront both during the war and after.

That obviously meant the Black Widow program. Maybe Kamil had some of the answers Natasha was looking for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the most I've gotten into ace Nat since within the first what, like 10 chapters? She's my fav. Also, this is the last we'll see of Angie for a long while. But she'll be back at some point.
> 
> The plot gets really good after these next couple chapters. Which I wasn't even planning on writing when I started but that's how writing works. So it'll be a while before i finish this story bc there's a lot more that's gonna happen. So stick with me here
> 
> Much love, as always <3


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is anyone even reading this lmao?
> 
> Still not a very actiony chapter but it's a little more interesting than the last one.
> 
> We had my grandma over for dinner on Sunday. The first Father's Day without my grandpa. It's been nearly 7 months and I feel like I should be mostly over it by now. But I'm not even close.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy :)

Kamil wasn’t cooperating with Thompson anymore, now that he’d found out he was useful and they wouldn’t kill him. He refused to talk, slyly grinning as he spat out mouthful after mouthful of blood. Finally, tired of the act, Sousa agreed to let Natasha speed up the interrogation.

“Just don’t kill him,” Sousa had told her. But she’d only smiled in reply. She hadn’t been planning on killing him anyway, and there was still so much she could do to him.

At least, she wasn’t planning on killing him yet, not until he’d outlived his usefulness. Then, hopefully, they’d let her have her way with him. Natasha could do nothing about what Leviathan had done to her in the Red Room, but she could get her revenge. One puppet at a time, until she could get to the one pulling the strings.

Inside the interrogation room, Natasha felt the most at home she’d ever been since coming across the ocean. She nearly forgot her new surroundings, and Thompson standing in the corner, as she focused on Kamil, handcuffed helplessly to the table.

“I’ve been told you worked with young Widows,” began Natasha, slowly, deliberately, pulling out a chair across the table and sitting down. “Have they told you I was one of them?”

“They didn’t have to,” replied Kamil in his thick accent. “I remember you, the name you made for yourself.”

“So you know, then, that I was the one to name myself the Black Widow.” Natasha’s gaze was soft. There would be time for coldness, later. “You know that the name caught on.”

Kamil nodded. “And I know that still, you stood out. The Red Death, they call you.”

They called her many things. The Black Widow and the Red Death were her favorites. “What else do you know about me?” she asked him.

He grinned, dried blood filling the gaps between his remaining teeth. “No matter what else you are, you are still only human,” he said. “I operated on you myself.”

Natasha struggled to not react, though it was hard not to pull her knife from her skirt and throw it right between his eyes. “If you know all this about me, then you should know to fear me.”

“You’re with the Americans,” sneered Kamil. “I have nothing to fear.”

“Do you know what it’s like to stare right into the face of death?” replied Natasha, her words icy. Now was the time for coldness. “To fight your way through it because you have no other options? No?” She leaned forward until she was half a meter away from his face, as far as she dared to go, and waited until he shook his head.

“That’s right,” she said, leaning back again. “You were never the one going out to fight for your country. You stayed inside thick walls, where it was safe. You were a coward, is that right? And I’ll bet you still are one. Are you, Kamil? Are you still a coward?”

There was no reply, other than the way Kamil’s lips tightened.

Natasha knew she had him. “Would you like to find out?” she asked, a cold smile punctuating her words. She paused, perhaps too long. But it wasn’t a reply she was waiting for.

Fluidly, she grabbed her knife, ripping through the fabric of her skirt, and stabbed through his hand. “The Americans may not let me kill you,” she snarled, “but that still leaves many options open.”

His eyes watered with the pain, but he said nothing.

“You’re going to talk,” Natasha went on. “The American’s nicer to you, isn’t he? You’ll want to cooperate with him, or he’ll call me back in. And you don’t want that, do you?”

Saying nothing, he glared at her.

“That’s what I thought,” said Natasha, pushing her chair back and standing up. “I’ll be watching. If you don’t talk–” she pulled her knife out of his skin “–I’ll be back.” She wiped the blood off on the back of his shirt as she left the room.

“Jesus Christ, Natasha,” said Sousa as she took her chair next to him in the viewing room.

“You told me I couldn’t kill him,” she pointed out. “I didn’t.”

Giving her shoulder a soft squeeze, Peggy told her, “I thought you were brilliant.”

“Effective, at the very least,” grumbled Sousa as they watched Thompson sit down.

They watched as Thompson nodded at Kamil’s bleeding hand. “You want something for that?” he asked. “I’m sure I can find some ice or something. Help with the swelling.”

Kamil said nothing.

“You heard the Black Widow,” said Thompson, taking his place in the free chair and leaning in, his hands clasped in front of him. “Are you going to talk? Or should I call her back in here?”

“I’ll talk, mudak.”

“What did he say?” Sousa whispered to Natasha.

“He called him an asshole,” Natasha translated.

“He should be calling you the asshole,” remarked Peggy. “You’re the one who stabbed him.”

They fell silent as Thompson spoke again. “You said you worked with the girls. Where?”

“Wherever they were training,” replied Kamil. “There are nine different training facilities. They moved the girls around every year or so, in case anyone found them who shouldn’t have.”

This Natasha knew. She remembered uncomfortable train rides with girls in various stages of training, to somewhere she didn’t know, and the truck rides from the station to the training camp. As she got older, she’d stopped hoping somebody would free them on the journey.

“Where are the training facilities?”

“I know of only one,” said Kamil. “It’s about eighty kilometers northeast of Novosibirsk. The rest I don’t know. They’re close to train stations because it’s easier to ship supplies, but I don’t know the rest.”

Thompson nodded, looking at the one-way glass between the rooms. It was as if he was asking Natasha if he was telling the truth. But Natasha didn’t know. They’d never been told their whereabouts; they were simply transported like pigs from facility to identical facility.

“I’ve heard the girls were left to doctor themselves,” continued Thompson. “What did they need you for, if not to heal the girls during their training?”

Kamil laughed hoarsely. “Most of the time, I was useless,” he agreed. “When they didn’t need me to help the Widows’ instructors, I was helping the scientists. I wasn’t very useful there, either, but I was the best at reading Howard Stark’s handwriting.”

“Stark’s handwriting?” repeated Thompson. “What did you have of his?”

“Just notes,” answered Kamil. “Scraps a few years old, from when we stole his inventions. They took everything then, including the old notes.”

“What kinds of things were there?” Again he glanced at the glass.

“Weapons, mostly.”

“Anything besides that?”

Slowly, Kamil nodded.

“And what were those?”

Kamil licked his lips. “I really shouldn’t say.” His voice was trembling, perhaps out of nerves, and likely the pain as well. “They wouldn’t like this at all.”

“They’ll never need to know,” promised Thompson.

Still hesitating, Kamil finally told him, “There were notes on the Super Soldier Serum. The scientists tried to replicate it, tested it on some of the girls. They never got it exactly, but they were close. Materials were hard to come by, so they only gave it to the best Widows, the ones who passed every one of Madame B’s tests. It was injected at graduation. Made the girls healthier, stronger. That’s all I know about that.”

“Vita rays,” murmured Peggy. “That’s what they were missing.”

Natasha glanced at her out of the corners of her eyes.

“I knew there had to be a reason you survived everything,” Peggy went on. “All of those missions you were on, and you never got hurt. I knew that wasn’t possible.”

This was the first time Natasha had heard about the serum. “It’s not like I knew anything about it,” she said. “I was just trained well. That’s all it was.”

“Excuse me,” said Sousa, who got up from his chair and left the two women alone.

“It’s always the superheroes, isn’t it,” said Peggy.

“What do you mean?” asked Natasha.

“You must have heard about Steve.” When Natasha shook her head, Peggy clarified, “Captain America?”

Of course Natasha had heard of Captain America. Everyone had. “I’ve read reports about the captain,” she said to Peggy. “You knew him, didn’t you.” Steve Rogers was his name, that was right. She’d forgotten all about him.

“He trained in my division, before the serum was administered,” Peggy told her. “And after, we worked together to try to take down Hydra. He gave his life to save his country from them.”

“You loved him, didn’t you.” Natasha knew Peggy wouldn’t admit it, but it was obvious.

To her surprise, Peggy nodded. “He was a good man, it was impossible not to.” She sighed, and then went on, “It’s been four years, but I still think about him sometimes.”

“What would he have thought about me?”

Peggy put her hands on Natasha’s shoulders. “He would have been the first to suggest giving you a second chance. You’re brave, and kind, just like he was. He would have liked you.”

“Would he have approved of this?” asked Natasha in a whisper, putting her hands on Peggy’s hips.

“Absolutely,” Peggy replied with a smile and a kiss.

Kissing her back, Natasha pulled Peggy closer to her. This was dangerous, anybody could open the door and see them, but she didn’t care.

The doorknob rattled, and their lips parted. Peggy pushed Natasha away as the door opened and Thompson walked in. “What you did, it worked,” he said, nodding at Natasha.

“He cracked faster than most,” said Natasha.

Thompson raised his eyebrows, but only said, “Still, that made it a lot easier on me. I appreciate it.” Then he turned to Peggy. “Marge, Sousa wants you in his office. He wouldn’t tell me what for. Probably SHIELD stuff.”

Peggy nodded and left the room, her hand brushing Natasha’s as she passed by.

“I’m going to see if Kamil has anything else to say,” continued Thompson. “I’ll grab one of your SHIELD agents to join you here for that. Okay?

Natasha nodded, and Thompson left the room.

When he came back, Agent Quinn was with him. Quinn, who Natasha still suspected of being a spy and a traitor. Sousa must not have told Thompson after all.

She still had no proof, but she couldn’t help herself.

As soon as Thompson left the two alone, Natasha made her move. Before Quinn could even react, she’d broken both his arms behind his back and was holding his wrists in her hand. “I know what you are,” she growled in his hear. “And if you don’t cooperate, I won’t hesitate to kill you, understand? I don’t need information, but that’s all that’s gonna spare your life, got it?”

“What are you doing, Romanoff? I don’t understand.”

She twisted his arms, and he moaned in agony. “Don’t lie,” she hissed. “Dottie told me all about you, how you helped her find us, how you gave her orders.” Natasha twisted his arms again.

“Ow, shit, fine. Yes, I told Dottie where you girls were,” he admitted. “You have to understand, she was going to kill me if I didn’t give her something to do.”

“I’m sure that wasn’t hard, you were already working for Leviathan,” said Natasha.

“That’s what you think.”

Natasha didn’t bother asking him what he meant by that; he’d all but said so himself, and the rest she’d heard from Dottie. She twisted his arms once more – she was having fun with this – and prepared her next question. But before she could ask it, she was interrupted.

“What are you doing?” Thompson demanded to know.”

“Agent,” said Natasha, straightening up, “I’ve caught you a Leviathan spy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also I discovered like, not a plot hole exactly, but something that doesn't seem quite right considering the setting. So the next chapter will most likely come later than originally thought.
> 
> And if anyone has a good idea for something Howard could invent, something small enough to hold easily in one hand and useful for a mission in Russia, please share. Literally. Please. I'm coming up blank here.
> 
> Or if you could tell me what you think of the chapter/story, that would be wonderful.
> 
> Much love <3


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> idk why I'm still bothering with this really but whatever so next chapter here ya go
> 
> I also fixed the thing that was missing from the plot so there's that I guess

Both Quinn and Kamil were taken to some federal prison later that day, where they awaited trial for crimes against the United States. Sousa scolded Natasha for not following protocol to arrest Quinn, but she got the impression that no one was too angry with her. Even Agent Brady shook her hand, offering grudging praise for catching a spy no one suspected.

Peggy gave her the next couple days off and worked late every day Natasha stayed home. She offered to help – she didn’t really need the time off – but Peggy refused, saying that Natasha had earned a break.

No matter how many times Natasha asked, Peggy wouldn’t tell her what she was working so hard on. Normally, Peggy told her everything – the advantage of being involved with your boss. But not this time.

After days passed, of Peggy working and Natasha doing nothing, she let her come back to work. Jarvis, Stark’s butler, picked them up, which was unusual. Stark himself was with them.

It wasn’t until they’d made several wrong turns that Natasha realized they weren’t going to SHIELD headquarters. “Where are we going?” she finally asked.

“New mission, just you and me,” replied Peggy. “Howard’s agreed to fly us there.”

“Where are we going?” Why hadn’t Natasha been told?

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

Natasha nodded, knowing she wasn’t going to get any answers from Peggy now. Why was she so secretive? What had she and Sousa planned, that they didn’t want her to know about?

But there was nothing she could do but wait as Jarvis took them to one of Stark’s private runways. It was only after takeoff that Peggy turned to Natasha and said, “What do you want to know?”

“What do I need to know for the mission?” she asked.

“Oh, you know everything already,” Peggy told her.

How? Natasha had no idea where they were even headed. “Peggy, what’s the mission? What are we gonna do?” she asked. “And why haven’t you told me anything?”

“We decided it was best not to tell you until we were in the air,” explained Peggy. “I knew you wouldn’t come otherwise.”

“Come where?” repeated Natasha. “Peggy, just tell me already.”

Peggy bit her lip and finally answered, “Russia. We’re going to take down the Black Widow program.”

“I’ve told you. It’s impossible,” said Natasha. “We don’t know where any of the camps are, or which one the girls are at. Not to mention how dangerous it is. We’ll be killed.”

“And this is why we didn’t tell you,” said Peggy. “Daniel and I don’t want anyone else to go through what you did. We think it’s important to put a stop to it. And it’ll be good for you.”

“Good for me?”

Peggy put her hand on Natasha’s knee. “Destroying the people who destroyed you? Don’t tell me you won’t enjoy that.”

That was a good point, Natasha had to admit. “I don’t want to be killed by them,” she protested. She’d just gotten away. How could she just throw herself back, to the country that had no place for her?

“I won’t let that happen,” Peggy assured her. “I’ll do everything in my power to keep us alive.”

“What if that’s not enough?”

“Then we die knowing we tried our best to save hundreds of innocent girls from a terrible fate.”

They’d die knowing they failed, more like. “Peggy, you shouldn’t be doing this,” said Natasha, even though she knew full well that Peggy wouldn’t back down. “If anything, I should be going alone. SHIELD needs you.”

“They have Howard, and Daniel,” dismissed Peggy. “They’ll get along fine until we return.”

“If.”

Peggy shushed her with a finger to her lips. The touch made Natasha’s heart beat faster as the other said, “We will come back.”

Not wanting to argue, Natasha changed the subject. “Where exactly is Stark taking us?”

“Romania,” replied Peggy. “We have a safe house there. Howard will drop us as close as he can get us. We’ll spend the night there, and head for Novosibirsk in the morning.”

Something was missing, or maybe Natasha was just not making the right connections. “How are you planning on getting there, walking?”

Peggy scoffed. “Give me some credit, Natasha. You really think I’d make us walk all the way to Russia?”

“You haven’t told me anything,” Natasha pointed out. “And you know I’ve learned to assume the worst.”

“Do you have no faith in me?” said Peggy, clearly fighting a smile. “The woman we’re staying with has a truck. She’s agreed to let us use it.”

“Are you sure it’s a good idea, to stay with someone?” When Peggy had said safe house, Natasha had assumed that meant they’d be alone. Trusting other people wasn’t exactly safe, especially in this part of the world.

But Peggy nodded. “She helped us during the war, led a resistance against the Nazis, saving my life, and Steve’s,” she explained. “Told us to let her know if we needed her help again. When I called, she was happy to hear from me, and insisted we stay overnight.”

Natasha still didn’t like it, but she would have to live with it. “Is there anything else I need to know?” It was better she find out now.

“We won’t be able to contact SHIELD while in Russia, but I presume you know that.” Natasha nodded; she’d assumed that would be the case. “They’re assuming we’ll be successful. So staying alive is the most important thing. Understand?”

As the Black Widow, staying alive came second in importance to completing the mission. And Natasha would sacrifice her life if it meant that the program was shut down. But Peggy wanted her alive, so she’d try even harder to unlearn her Red Room training. “Understood, boss.”

“Oh, hush, you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Make me.”

Glancing back to make sure Howard wasn’t watching, Peggy moved in and held Natasha in a long, soft kiss. When they pulled apart, Stark called back to them, “Not to ruin the moment, but–”

“The moment was already ruined by your mere presence, Howard,” interrupted Peggy. “Why, what’s going on? We can’t be there yet.”

“We’re still over the Atlantic,” replied Stark. “I just wanted to say, I don’t know how close I can drop you. I don’t think the commies will appreciate our presence.”

“Just get us as close as you can,” Peggy called back. “Nat and I don’t mind walking, and I know my way around Romania.”

“I know, Peg. I just wanted to make sure Natasha knows what’s going on.”

“You think I don’t know my way around eastern Europe?” said Natasha. “Have you forgotten who I am, Stark?” She’d been sent all over Europe on various assignments. She knew the area, without a doubt.

Chuckling, Stark said, “How could I forget?”

“Howard, really.”

“Sorry, Peg.”

The rest of the flight passed peacefully, Natasha and Peggy leaning against each other to nap. When they got closer to their destination, though, it became impossible for either woman to sleep.

Not long before the time came to exit the airplane, Peggy turned to Natasha and pulled something out of her pack. “Howard’s designed this for you,” she told her.

Natasha took the object from Peggy and turned it over in her hands. It was made of metal, with a thin rubbery cover. Three sharp points on the end of the device poked her fingers. There was one button on the side. A small thing, it fit easily in her closed fist. 

“What is it?” she asked.

“Handy little thing,” Stark called back to her. “Pressing that button there sends an electrical current through those prods. More than enough to kill a man.”

“He thought you could use something else for hand-to-hand combat,” Peggy explained further. “Since you seem to have a habit of throwing your knives.”

“I don’t need a knife to kill a man,” Natasha protested. “You saw me.”

Peggy nodded. “I know. But this will make it easier.”

Shrugging, Natasha replied, “Whatever you say.” She would never admit it out loud, but her pride was more than a little wounded. Did they really think that Natasha would need a weapon like this to get her by?

“Oh come on, Natasha,” complained Stark. “I spent a lot of time on that thing, you could at least be a little more impressed.”

“Nothing you’ve ever done has impressed me, Stark.”

He looked over at her again. “That was a low blow.”

Natasha met his eyes as she said, “Eat it.”

Raising his eyebrows, Stark smirked, “If you’re offering me another shot, I promise I won’t disappoint you this time.”

“Howard, knock it off.”

“Come on, Peg, she’s the one who started it.” But he turned back around.

Then Peggy turned to Natasha. “It charges again in the sun,” she told her, clearly going back to talking about the device. “Fairly quickly, too. There shouldn’t be any problems with it.”

There wouldn’t be a problem with it if she didn’t use it. “I expect no less. I’ve been promised I won’t be disappointed.” She pocketed the device, and not another word was spoken of it.

Soon they flew as near as they dared to their safe house, and it was time to exit the plane.

“How many jumps have you done?” Peggy asked her.

“I don’t know, a few.” There had never been much need. Being a Black Widow had its perks, which included a guaranteed safe flight to almost everywhere Natasha was assigned. She was always a little nervous, but having no choice she’d jumped. She’d never injured herself though, and with any luck this time would be no different.

It seemed like Peggy could read her discomfort as she said, “You’re coming with me, then. We’ll buckle in together, you’ll be fine.”

All Natasha could do was nod. She would have been perfectly okay by herself, but this was the path of least resistance.

When they were strapped in and ready to jump, Stark called back to them, “Huh, Peg, you’re kinkier than I thought you’d be.”

“Howard!”

“We’re just southwest of the house,” Stark told them. “Good luck, you two. Send word when you can. We’ll all be rooting for you.”

Peggy smiled. “Don’t miss us too much,” she said. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

Stark glanced uncertainly at Natasha, who narrowed her eyes and spared him a nod. Clearly interpreting that as a good sign, he grinned and blew her a kiss.

When they jumped, the cold air slammed into them. Even with her goggles on Natasha shut her eyes against the wind and hoped that Peggy hadn’t been exaggerating when she talked herself up.

They landed safely. Natasha took the brunt of it – it just made sense. She had the serum, she was stronger and healed faster. And once again she came away uninjured.

“Southwest, he said,” Peggy muttered to herself as she pulled a compass out of her pack. “This way.” She turned and pointed. “You ready?”

Natasha couldn’t believe they were really doing this. “I’m ready.”

***

After at least two hours of walking, the two finally stumbled across a small village. “This is it,” whispered Peggy, now in Russian. “It’s not far now.”

And it wasn’t. Peggy led Natasha to a small house a few streets into the village and knocked on the door. They waited longer than Natasha felt safe to.

“Are you sure this is it?” she whispered, glancing around.

Peggy just nodded.

After awhile had passed, and Natasha was ready to just leave and camp in the woods they’d passed through, the door opened. A woman with a small, wrinkled face and thinning white hair was standing inside. Her harsh gaze softened when she recognized Peggy. “Come in, come in,” she invited. “It’s good to see you again. I made soup, it’s still hot.”

“Thank you,” said Peggy, smiling as she gestured for Natasha to step in first.

The house was even smaller than it seemed from the outside. The carpet was threadbare, the furniture worn, but the smell of the soup made it seem almost cozy.

Once they were safely inside and the door was shut, Peggy said, “Natasha, this is Mrs. Petrescu. Ma’am, this is Natasha Romanoff.”

Mrs. Petrescu smiled, grasping Natasha’s hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

The three ate the soup, and then Mrs. Petrescu sent Natasha and Peggy off to bed. “You’ll need a good night’s sleep for what you’re off to do.”

It was impossible not to like Mrs. Petrescu, and Natasha was glad they’d made the stop here. Her stomach was still warm from the soup, and this would be the last time she figured they’d have a bed to sleep in.

Peggy offered to take the floor, if Natasha was uncomfortable sharing it. But Natasha wasn’t about to let her do that.

Besides, for the first time in her life, Natasha felt almost comfortable sharing a bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good things are about to happen
> 
> <3


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did some research on the USSR in the 1940s/1950s. Location of cities and railroad tracks, population, geography. Including Russian names, had to look up a bunch of them for minor characters. Not so much the execution of communism, I'm just going off a memoir I read a couple years ago bc I'm lazy af, so if something's extremely inaccurate yell at me and I'll fix it.

Even though Mrs. Petrescu ushered them out early the next morning, Natasha and Peggy hadn’t escaped the village without being shot at. The truck was strong enough to take the bullets, and they sped away. Natasha guessed that they’d been lucky not to have run into any guards last night – they must have broken some sort of curfew.

But they were away from that now, all alone in the Romanian countryside.

Once she was sure they’d made it, Peggy, who was behind the wheel, cheered and pulled Natasha in for a sideways hug. “We did it!”

Natasha couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, we did.” Maybe they could carry this mission out, all the way through, if their luck held out like this.

Then Peggy pulled her in for a kiss. It was so sudden, Natasha nearly jumped as she pushed Peggy away and told her, “Watch where you’re driving!”

“There’s nothing here to hit,” protested Peggy, but she didn’t kiss her again.

This plan had so many flaws – where would they get food, and fuel, and what would they do when they ran into the reds? But they would figure something out. Natasha didn’t let herself dwell on her concerns. She was optimistic for maybe the first time in her life, and damn, it felt good.

They kept up a conversation for the first hour or so of driving, but then Peggy suggested that Natasha nap while she could. “I’ll wake you if anything happens, promise,” she said.

“Or if you get tired, or when you need a break,” replied Natasha. She didn’t trust that Peggy would wake her when it was her turn to drive. “Okay?”

“I will, Natasha.”

She still didn’t like it much, but she couldn’t really argue against it, especially since she needed her sleep. So she slouched down in her seat and closed her eyes.

Falling asleep was easier than she’d imagined, but staying asleep could not have been any harder. Without even trying Natasha woke in nearly even ten-minute intervals. Peggy seemed to notice, but didn’t say anything, not until a couple hours had passed.

“Do you want to take over for now, or keep sleeping?” Peggy asked her around nine am.

“I’ll take over,” said Natasha. “I can’t sleep, anyway.”

“Is my driving really that bad?” teased Peggy as the two crawled across one another to switch seats.

“Yeah, I was trying to sleep so I wouldn’t have to watch you drive.”

Peggy looked at her, almost in astonishment. “Was that a joke, Nat?”

Looking at Peggy out of the corner of her eye, Natasha replied, “Yeah. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything…”

With a chuckle, Peggy said, “Not at all. I just don’t think I’ve heard you joke before.”

Natasha shrugged. “Didn’t have much use for jokes in the Red Room.”

“Shit, I’m sorry, Natasha.”

But maybe this was a good thing. If Natasha was telling jokes, maybe that meant that she was starting to leave her memories of the Red Room behind her. She might never wash the images entirely out of her mind, but she didn’t have to live like she was still there.

She was lucky to have Peggy, she truly was. The other woman had showed Natasha a kindness she’d never had before, had never even known existed. Her compassion, if nothing else, could guide Natasha away from the pain of the Red Room.

For now, she was driving east. Back to the place she’d come from. This was going to be hard, seeing the walls of the training camp where she’d learned, far too young, that the world was cruel and full of pain.

She’d learned that there was no place for her in the world. But Peggy had showed her how to make a place of her own. Natasha didn’t belong in Russia, but rather with Peggy at SHIELD. That was her place, the place she’d made for herself.

And right now, her place was in a stolen truck next to the woman she was trying to love, in Europe trying to save other girls from learning the same shit she’d been taught.

***

The extra gasoline in the back of the truck had kept them going until they were well into Russia. They’d switched off driving in three hour shifts, and slept while the other was behind the wheel. But now that they were here, they’d need to take some risks.

After all, they couldn’t just drive around the Russian countryside, blindly hoping to run into the training facilities. They’d be caught and killed before they even found one, let alone nine.

So they found a hotel outside of Kuybyshev, where they’d heard from tampering with the radio that Yevstigneyev, a government official, would be staying. If anyone could point them in the right direction, it would be him. It was a long shot, sure, and there was a chance they’d be killed, but it was all they had.

“What does he look like? Do you know?” asked Peggy. It was too dangerous to speak anything but Russian now.

Natasha shrugged. “You’ll know him when you see him.”

“I suppose I’ll have to.”

Their plan was suitably risky. Natasha was to stay in the truck, ‘tied up,’ while Peggy waited inside for Yevstigneyev. They were lost, a Widow and a new recruit tasked with taking her home from her mission. Natasha was counting on Yevstigneyev not knowing much of the Black Widow program, other than its existence.

When Peggy parked the truck and left, Natasha tried to stay hidden. If somebody saw her, they would suspect something. It was dark outside, though, so it wasn’t likely, but it was still possible.

Natasha must have bitten off three layers of skin from her lips by the time Peggy returned. As the other opened the door and sat inside, Natasha straightened up and asked her, “Well?”

Peggy smiled. “He gave me some pretty detailed directions. I know how to get us there.”

“And ‘there’ being…”

“The one the girls are at now,” replied Peggy. She unfolded the map that was in her pocket to show Natasha the route that had been penciled in.

It couldn’t have been that easy. “What did you have to do to get this information?” Natasha should have gone in herself, should have fought through the bodyguards and taken Yevstigneyev back to the truck, should have tortured him until he told them where to go. It would have appeared terribly suspicious, but not much more than this plan did.

“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” said Peggy smoothly.

“Peggy,” said Natasha quietly. “Peggy, if he made you do anything I swear I’ll go inside and kill him myself.” This was a dangerous feeling, love. She understood why not even the tiniest sliver of it was allowed in the Red Room.

“It was nothing I couldn’t handle,” repeated the other woman. “Now, let’s go. It’s not far, we can make it by tomorrow afternoon if we drive fast enough.”

“Do we have enough gasoline?”

Peggy merely shrugged. “We’ll find out.”

And the two of them set off again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be starting school up again in p much exactly a month. I'll be in two 400 level math courses (never be a math major guys don't do that to yourself) so I probably won't have as much time to write. I'll try to post what I have when I can, but after that I can't make any promises. Other than not disappearing for like 20 years, I'm not gonna do that again.
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter, let me know what you think of it <3


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I kinda lied. Updates will be somewhat irregular. I started another project, it's an original work that I hope to finish by the end of this year, and I'm gonna focus mostly on that but I will keep posting this one. Also I'm sorry it took like a month to get this one up, I have no concept of time lmao

They’d parked the truck a few kilometers away from the facility. It was safer to hide the vehicle and walk the rest of the way, less conspicuous.

The outside of the building was exactly the same as Natasha remembered. Cold, gray stone, completely unbreachable with two exceptions, the front entrance and the lone window.

“Will they hear if we knock?” whispered Peggy as they looked at the camp, still a safe distance away.

Natasha shook her head. “It’s a thick wall, and we can’t break in because it’s barricaded.”

“Then what do we do?”

“I’ll climb up to the window and knock it in,” replied Natasha. “I’ll fight through whoever’s there and open the door when it’s safe for you to come inside.”

“What about all the girls?” asked Peggy. “You can’t take all of them.”

An army of ten-year-olds couldn’t kill her, not without weapons. But that didn’t mean it was necessary to fight through all the girls. There was a better way. “I’ll go at night,” she decided. “All the girls will be chained to their beds.”

“And you’re not going in alone.”

Natasha just looked at Peggy, saying nothing.

“I’m going in with you,” Peggy continued. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, you know you could use my help.”

“I can’t ask you to do that,” replied Natasha. “They’ll notice us faster if you come along, they’ll kill us sooner. There’s no sense in both of us getting killed.”

“How am I going to know if you get killed or not?” argued Peggy. “How can you expect me to sit and wait while you risk your life, when I know I can help you?”

“You’re not coming with me,” said Natasha. “This is my fight, not yours.”

“Don’t expect me to wait around while you do everything!” Peggy took a couple steps closer to Natasha, and then went on, “You can’t stop me from coming with you.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “If you can climb up to the window, then no, I can’t stop you.”

“You think I can’t make it up there.”

“It’s harder than it looks.” Peggy couldn’t help her here; this Natasha knew. It was the kind of job that required only one person. Not only was a second person unnecessary, but it would put the entire mission at risk. She couldn’t fight and worry about someone else at the same time.

Not only that, but it was something Natasha should do herself. After all, it was she who had spent the better part of her life inside those walls, being mercilessly trained and tortured. It was Natasha, and not Peggy, who had a quarrel with the people inside, who needed to repair the damage they’d done to her mind.

So Natasha would go in alone. They probably wouldn’t kill her, if she couldn’t take them down. They’d take her alive. They must have heard by now that she’d defected to the American side; they’d want information from her. It would keep her alive long enough for Peggy to turn back.

It was stupid of them to believe that the two of them could possibly complete the mission. Surely it would take more to bring down an entire program. But what choice did they have, really? They needed to be stealthy, to disrupt the program in secrets. Men, with their guns and bombs, would only start a war between the two countries.

While a nuclear war would certainly shut down the Red Room, it would also end all life on earth. And they couldn’t let that happen.

So the two of them it was, for better or for worse.

When nighttime fell upon them, bringing with it a wind that had not been there in the daylight, Natasha left the shelter of the truck and headed for the building.

Peggy, damn her stubbornness, followed. “You’re not going without me,” she hissed.

“I can’t let you die in my fight,” replied Natasha. “Those girls in there have been trained to kill people like you. If I’m caught, they might spare me. But they’ll show no mercy to you. Remember they want you dead? That I was the one sent to kill you for them?”

“I’m not a child,” argued Peggy. “I can handle myself. Besides, you think I didn’t know coming into this that dying was a possibility?”

Natasha stopped walking and turned to face Peggy.

“Not that I don’t have faith that you’ll keep us alive,” continued Peggy, “but in case it all goes to hell, this is something worth dying for. Natasha, you are worth dying for.”

She didn’t know what to say to that. So she said nothing, and let Peggy fumble for words.

“I know you don’t believe me, Nat, but you are not replaceable, you are more than what the Red Room shaped you into. Whatever happens tonight, Natasha, I love you.”

It was the first time either of them had said the words aloud. No one had ever told Natasha they loved her; how could anyone love an assassin, a killer? Natasha was supposed to say it back, she knew that. But she couldn’t.

Instead, she just grabbed Peggy’s hand, and the two women walked together towards the lone building.

“I’ll go up first, break the window and take care of anyone in the room,” ordered Natasha in a low voice. “You’ll come up behind me, take all the time you need. I’ll wait for you.”

Peggy nodded.

But Natasha wasn’t finished. “If they take me, drop down and run.” When Peggy started to protest, she cut her off. “There’s no sense in both of us getting captured.”

“I can’t just leave you to die.”

“I don’t expect you to,” replied Natasha. “Get backup and try to break me out. Think of something. If it works, if you can get me out, that’s great. If not, at least you’re still alive, you can still try to complete the mission without me. Is that clear?”

Peggy smiled. “And here I am, remembering when I was your boss.”

This was a joke. Natasha was getting better at identifying those. But she was still no good at reciprocating. “You better think again.”

“I better.”

With nothing left to say, Natasha took a deep breath and felt for handholds in the stone.

“Wait.” It was a whisper, but Natasha heard it. She turned around to see Peggy nervously clasping and unclasping her hands. “Don’t die, okay?”

Natasha nodded, putting her hands over Peggy’s.

“I’ve seen so many people I care about die.” Peggy’s words were still barely more than breaths. “I can’t lose you too.”

“You won’t,” promised Natasha, giving her girlfriend a soft kiss. Was Peggy her girlfriend? Could she call her her girlfriend? She didn’t know.

Peggy held Natasha’s face to hers. “Good luck up there,” she murmured as she let her go.

Natasha, still holding Peggy’s gaze, nodded again. She took a few steps back, and then turned to face the wall and began her climb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I've got like 50k words now. The longest completed work I've ever written ended up at 74k and I have a feeling that this one will go a lot longer than that. I'm kinda proud of this actually idk i hope you all like it as much as i do


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it appears that updates at 3am in the morning roughly once a month are gonna be a thing. I'd like to say it's bc of school (we legit proved division in one of my classes) but really I haven't been writing much bc I'm a lazy shit. Next chapter might not be up for longer than that bc I'm off my meds - I can't get my prescription refilled for another 2 weeks so I'm basically fucked until then.
> 
> Anyway, hope you like this chapter :)

Luckily, there was no one in the room when Natasha entered. She’d just turned to call down to Peggy that the coast was clear when she heard the doorknob rattle.

Hurriedly, she broke off a piece of the remaining glass in the window as long as her hand. Her heart beat faster as she readied her mind for a fight.

When the door opened, a team of grown men wearing all black entered. Each held a gun, and all six of them were pointed at her.

Not that Natasha was going to let an inconvenience like this stop her. She rushed forward, stabbing the first man in the neck with her makeshift weapon. As he collapsed she ducked around him and elbowed another in the throat. While he dropped his gun, Natasha stuck the piece of glass between the ribs of the third.

Then she wrapped her arm around the neck of the fourth and jumped up to squeeze the head of the fifth between her thighs. Two gunshots rang out as Natasha snapped both their necks, but she didn’t feel a thing.

On her feet again, Natasha saw Peggy aiming her gun at the man Natasha hadn’t killed. The sixth one was already dead, having been shot by Peggy as she’d climbed into the room.

Natasha had him tied up before she realized she was bleeding. Adrenaline had kept her from feeling any pain until now, when she realized she must have been shot in the leg. Peggy helped her bandage it up, and then they focused on the man they’d tied up to a chair.

Her hand brushed against a small item in one of the pockets on the sleeve of her jacket, and too late she remembered Stark’s device. It might have been more useful than the glass shard, but no one had ever designed a weapon like that. Not only was unlike anything she’d ever used before, but it had been made specifically for her. It was no wonder she hadn’t thought of it until after the fact.

“I’ll keep watch outside,” Peggy murmured to Natasha, “just in case there are any more.”

Nodding, Natasha kissed the other’s cheek and then turned away. Her face was wiped clean of emotion as she faced her prisoner.

“Where are the girls?” she asked. “And Madame B and the Winter Soldier. Are they here?”

The man spat out a mouthful of blood and shook his head.

“Why are you here then?”

He smiled scornfully but didn’t answer.

“You think I can’t make you talk?” said Natasha with a smile of her own. “Because I will. I grew up here, you know, inside these walls.” She gestured around.

“I’m not afraid of a girl.”

Natasha pulled a knife out of her belt. “You will be once I’m done with you.”

She walked around behind the chair as he spat at her again. Without warning she snapped one of his fingers back. She felt the bone break in two places in her own fingers.

To his credit, he didn’t let out any sound of pain. But he was clenching his jaw as Natasha broke the next finger, and the next. Once all his fingers were broken, she strolled back around to the front of the chair.

“You think that hurt?” she teased, touching his face gently. “You don’t know pain, not like I do.”

“You won’t kill me,” he replied. “I have information. You want it.”

“But you won’t tell me anything, is that right?” Natasha stepped away. “I know more than you think.” She started limping to where Peggy stood, but turned around to say one last thing: “I won’t come back for you.”

As Natasha and Peggy left the room together, the latter asked, “Why didn’t you question him for longer? You would have made him tell you eventually.”

Shrugging, Natasha replied, “There’s got to be stuff here, files, maps, that sort of thing, that’ll have everything we need to know.”

“Natasha-”

“The girls aren’t here,” interrupted Natasha. “The instructors aren’t here. Nobody is here, so we have all the time we need to explore and find the answers ourselves.”

Peggy looked like she wanted to argue, but just nodded and said, “Alright. Should we split up or stay together?”

“Together,” decided Natasha. In a quieter voice, she went on, “I don’t want to be alone here.”

Wordlessly, Peggy put her arm around Natasha and kissed her shoulder.

Natasha leaned into her, and the two of them walked like that down the corridor to the next doorway. Peggy tried the handle, but it was locked.

“We didn’t come all this way to get stopped by a lock,” said Natasha. She would have loved to kick it in, but she could barely stand on her injured leg.

“Who said we’d get stopped by it?” Peggy unpinned the brooch that Natasha had noticed but not commented on. Turned out it was a lock pick, and soon they were inside the locked room.

File cabinets lined the walls of the tiny office, organized by year, from 1919 to 1948.

“How many girls are there?” whispered Peggy. “How many of you?”

“Twenty-eight,” replied Natasha. “Well, twenty-seven now. Not including the girls still going through training.”

“How many do you think we can save?”

Natasha turned away from the cabinets labeled 1944 to look at Peggy. “What do you mean?”

“We can’t kill all of them,” replied Peggy. “Especially the younger ones.”

Not all of the girls could kill before age ten, like Natasha. She supposed they might not have to kill everyone. “The girls, the older ones, they’re very loyal,” Natasha warned Peggy. “Out of fear, mostly. But we won’t be able to save them all.”

Peggy nodded. “I know, but I’ll damn well try my best.”

She always had to play the hero. “What will we do with them?”

“What do you mean?”

“Who’s going to take them, who would want them?” said Natasha. “The Red Room is the only place for girls like them, like me.”

“We’ll figure something out,” answered Peggy. “And you did just fine.”

But Natasha wasn’t convinced. “These girls are liars, they’re killers,” she said. “Where can they go? We can’t just dump them on the streets somewhere.”

“We’ll figure it out,” repeated Peggy, more forcefully.

What else could Natasha do but nod?

“Is there anything you need in here, or are you ready to look somewhere else?” Peggy went on.

Natasha limped to the file cabinet labeled 1944 and opened one of the drawers. “Give me a minute,” she said. “I want to see if there’s anything on me.”

Peggy strode over to stand next to her. “Take as long as you need.”

With Peggy’s hand on her shoulder, Natasha searched through three drawers until she found the one she was looking for. Clipped shut, the folder was labeled NATALIA ROMANOVA in blue pen. The corners of the papers inside were ripped and the edges were slightly yellowed.

It wasn’t the time to read the file, but even as Natasha tucked it under her arm and closed the drawer she couldn’t help but wonder exactly what her instructors had said about her.

“Are you ready?” Peggy asked her.

Natasha licked her lips and nodded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think <3


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long, I stopped taking my meds bc im a piece of shit and I've barely written a goddamn word for months lmao. forgive me?

There wasn’t much else on the upper floor, so Natasha and Peggy found the staircase and started down. Because of her injury, Natasha had to limp down one stair at a time, putting half her weight on Peggy to help her down.

She hated it, couldn’t stand the thought of needing help doing something as easy as walking down a flight of stairs.

The bottom of the staircase was at the end of a hallway Natasha had never seen before. It was dimly lit – the men sent to kill them mush have turned on the lights when they were here, because Natasha saw no switch.

Soon enough the hallway ended in a T to another hallway. “Left or right?” whispered Peggy.

“Right.”

This hallway was not as long as the first, but it was still one where the young widows were not permitted. Natasha didn’t recognize this area of the facility at all.

Once the corridor opened up to the training room, memories began to flit around Natasha’s mind. She’d killed at least five girls on that mat, pushed off to the side. She’d broken out of those ropes, the ones near the wall and the ones hanging from the ceiling. She’d hit those dummies with countless weapons, knives and guns and anything else she was given.

“This place is giving me the creeps,” whispered Peggy, tightening her grip on Natasha’s arm.

“This was home,” replied Natasha.

The next room was another that Natasha was all too familiar with. The ballet studio. Stretches at the barre on the wall across from the mirror, fifth position and arabesques, chasse, releve, fouette. Glissade, fondu, pas de chat, pique. Her feet remembered all the steps, dancing so much they’d blistered and bled.

“You danced?” Peggy looked around at the cubbies with leotards and pointe shoes on the opposite side of the tile floor.

Natasha nodded. “Ballet. It was always a good cover,” she explained. “Especially when someone came around who wasn’t supposed to know about us.”

“What did they say when they saw the rest of the place?”

“They never knew there was much more behind the studio,” answered Natasha. “The dancers’ living quarters, we always said. And once we danced for them, they believed it.”

Peggy didn’t reply, leading Natasha to the next room.

It was just a small waiting area. Sometimes the girls would fight one-on-one with one of the trainers. Maybe more. This was rare, but if enough trainers weren’t immediately available, the girls didn’t have enough supervision, and they had to wait out here, shackled to the exposed pipes on the wall.

The chains were still there, and Natasha’s wrist twitched – muscle memory, perhaps? She saw Peggy glance from her to the chains. The other woman said nothing, now easily able to guess what they were for. She’d heard enough of Natasha’s stories.

That still didn’t mean that Peggy was any less horrified, and that showed on her face. Meanwhile Natasha’s face was wiped clear of emotion. Another instinct – this was how she’d survived here, and even though she knew her instructors couldn’t see her she still felt the need.

The next door led into another corridor that soon split two ways, and Peggy again looked to Natasha for direction.

“Right,” she said. “To the left are only the dormitories.” There were eight of them, one for each class of girls in training. “And the courtyard, but there won’t be anything there.” The courtyard was used for outside training in any weather, good or bad, but nothing was ever kept out there.

It turned out there wasn’t much on the other side of the corridor, either. Just a couple of storage rooms. They contained all sorts of stuff. The first one didn’t have much. Clothes and shoes for the girls, most already worn down. The next few were much more useful. Those had training supplies, small lengths of rope to practice tying knots, spare dummies that hadn’t been torn to shreds. There were drawers full of bullets, all blanks. Near those were several racks of small guns meant for twelve-year-old hands. They were already loaded with the blanks from the drawers.

If they were real bullets, there was nothing to stop the young girls from shooting each other to ensure, at age twelve, that they were the sole victor. Natasha knew this, because she had tried. She hadn’t even been punished for it. That was surprising, but Natasha hadn’t complained.

They moved on to the real bullets after they’d learned the mechanisms of several different guns, and given the lecture that if even one bullet hit a live target, the girl who fired would be “punished appropriately.”

No one wanted to find out what was meant by that.

Natasha and Peggy stumbled across a room with a bench, and Peggy insisted that Natasha sit down, at least for a little while.

“You’re shot in the leg,” Peggy reasoned. “You can’t keep going like this forever.”

Although agreeing to sit down, Natasha replied, “I’ve gone through training in worse condition than this. This is nothing.”

“I’m your boss,” said Peggy firmly. “You’re injured, and you’re going to rest.”

That wasn’t going to stop Natasha from looking around, though. From where she was sitting, it was easy to deduce that the room stored nothing but weapons. Guns lined the walls, and there were cabinets whose drawers mush have held bullets. On the opposite side of the room was another set of cabinets. Knives, perhaps.

Peggy soon confirmed for her that no, there was nothing in this room that wasn’t a weapon, and she came to sit next to her.

“You’re not okay, are you?” said Peggy, reaching for Natasha’s hand.

“It doesn’t really hurt. I told you, I’m fine.”

The other woman shook her head. “Nat, I’m not talking about your leg.”

Had Peggy seen through her neutral expression? Maybe leaving Leviathan had caused that skill to slip away. Or maybe it was just because, after spending weeks together, Peggy had learned how to read her.

Either way, Natasha was going to protest as long as she could. “Really, Peggy, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

Peggy squeezed her hand. “Natasha, I know you’re strong. But I also know that it must be so painful to be back here. It’s okay to not be okay.”

No it wasn’t. Not here.

Natasha didn’t look up, so Peggy took that as her cue to go on, “You know as well as I do that I’ve never dealt with anything nearly as bad as this. I can’t share your pain, but I can help you, if you let me.”

Still, Natasha said nothing, so Peggy did the natural thing. Before Natasha could react, Peggy had taken her face in her hands and pulled her in for a kiss.

At first Natasha gasped. This kind of thing was forbidden here, they’d both be killed. But, perhaps because of Peggy’s touch, as strange sense of calmness seeped into her mind, and for the first time it sunk in that nothing was happening here, not today. Nothing but this, and Natasha knew that the woman sucking on her lips would never let her demons get the best of her. And finally she allowed her body to relax.

Peggy evidently noticed the change; her kisses became more aggressive, and her grip on Natasha’s hair more tight. Natasha responded, her hands moving to Peggy’s leg.

Soon, Peggy stood up, never breaking contact with Natasha’s lips, to kneel on the ground in front of her. Natasha’s legs parted to make room for her. Peggy’s hands moved from her face to roughly squeeze her hips and pull her closer.

Was this it? Was this the moment? Natasha had no idea how to please a woman. She didn’t particularly care to find out. What would Peggy say when she refused?

But Peggy didn’t ask, content with giving Natasha the most intense kiss of her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> is this fic good enough to keep writing?


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i literally have no idea what i'm doing anymore. i care abt maybe 2 things. next semester starts in a week, i can promise sporadic updates at best but i hate my writing lmao so even that might not happen for months ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

There was one more room they found useful; it held fuel and canned food that they badly needed. There were also other things they could use to survive in the Russian cold. Stuff like firewood, thick coats, and new boots.

“This is great,” murmured Peggy.

“We’ll have to remember to come back for it later,” added Natasha. When Peggy looked at her, she went on, “We didn’t look on the other side of that hallway, back by the stairs. We don’t know where to go after we leave here. We can’t just wander all through Russia, we need to know where to go.”

The other woman nodded. “Of course, you’re right. I’ll go back over and see what I can find.”

“What do you mean, you’ll go back?” Natasha pushed away from the wall she’d been leaning on. “I’m going back too. You can’t leave me here.”

Tension filled the room as Peggy walked close to her. When she touched her shoulder, not so gently, the air was almost too think to breathe in. And Natasha could sense that all Peggy wanted right now was to push her back to the wall and put a hand between her thighs. A continuation of the kiss they’d just ended, and then some.

Luckily, this was neither the time nor place for that. Natasha was relieved, she had no desire for any of that kind of stuff. But she couldn’t stop her breath from catching in her throat.

“Come on then,” said Peggy, her voice hoarse. “Let’s go back and see what we can find.”

Natasha left her file behind, knowing that they would come back for it, and the two of them made their way through the room they’d quickly passed through to get to this one. It didn’t have much besides the tools her instructors used to punish them. Canes, whips, chains. Natasha couldn’t get out of that room fast enough, while Peggy looked around with a very different expression on her face. Natasha had decided not to ask.

They couldn’t walk very fast, what with the fresh wound on Natasha’s leg, but Peggy took half her weight, despite her protests, and that quickened their pace a little.

That was good, because Natasha wanted to leave the place as fast as possible.

Finally they reached the corridor at the bottom of the staircase, and walked past to find out exactly what was down the hallway Natasha had never explored.

This was somewhat easier on Natasha. Having never seen this area of the building before, she had no haunting memories waiting for her inside the rooms. There weren’t very many of them here, either, but of course she and Peggy would take a look inside all of them.

Natasha was afraid to speak in anything louder than a whisper – and even that made her tremble – just in case there were others down here, waiting to take them by surprise and kill them before they had the chance to fight back.

There weren’t any of them in the first room they visited. It appeared to be an office, similar to the one at the top of the stairs. It was much less cluttered, though; they must have not used this room nearly as much as they had the one upstairs.

“This is even worse,” Peggy said quietly, commenting on the emptiness of the small room.

Natasha hated it too, hated the silence that accompanied the absence of any living being. But if there was any truth to her suspicions, they would hear someone coming sooner, give them a better chance.

Peggy used her brooch to pick the locks on the desk drawers, but they quickly found out that they shouldn’t have bothered. There was nothing of use inside any of them. But they did find training plans for Year 1, Year 2, and all the way up to Year 8. There was no Year 9. If there wasn’t a sole potential by the end of Year 8, every remaining one would be hanged, slowly, from a noose that hadn’t been fitted properly for them.

Natasha had finished in Year 7, by working harder and faster than the other girls, so she’d pull ahead past all of them. There was no doubt that she would have made it through Year 8 without doing all that extra practice, but she hadn’t wanted to chance it.

She kept these details to herself, there was no need to share any of it with Peggy, although she had the feeling that the other would want to know. What Natasha said now was simply, “They use the same training plans year after year. They’re effective, 28 of us passed it all.”

Peggy just nodded, turning the yellowed pages in her hand once more before setting them down and closing the drawer. Then she asked the question Natasha had wished she wouldn’t. “What comes after Year 8?”

“If there’s only one, graduation.”

“Only one graduates?” When Natasha nodded, Peggy asked further, “What happens if there are more?”

Natasha had to take a breath before answering, “You all failed. You tie your own noose.”

Peggy’s eyes widened, but since she’d almost gotten used to hearing the horrors that happened here, all she said was, “So you passed Year 8, then?”

Shaking her head, Natasha corrected her, “I graduated after Year 7. I didn’t want to tie my own noose, so I made sure I wouldn’t have to early on.”

“There were around 20 girls starting each class, you said? How do you pass?”

“The first seven years, the girl who was ranked last failed,” explained Natasha. “There are many ways to kill yourself. The Winter Soldier picked one for you and watched.”

Peggy said nothing at first, and Natasha wondered if she’d finally gone too far. But then came, “So that’s seven girls each year. What happened to the rest?”

Natasha couldn’t believe Peggy had to ask this. “Some were orchestrated by Madame B. Killed in training or through punishment. Usually in front of us to prove a point.”

“And the rest?”

Shrugging, Natasha said, “You had to watch your back.” She remembered telling Peggy about Sasha and Marinka. But there were more, others that stood out in her mind. Sofia in Year 3, who was never going to make it very far anyway. She was so jealous of Natasha’s good standing with their instructors, she’d tried to sneak up on her with a chain.

It was the weakest attempt Natasha had ever seen. The chain rattled as Sofia drew near, giving Natasha plenty of time to turn around and face her attacker. And even though Sofia was taller and heavier, it was so easy for Natasha to grab the other end of the chain to spin Sofia around and twist it around her neck.

If she had pulled hard enough, the pressure would have been enough to tear the other girl’s head straight off. But if she’d done that, it would have been up to her to clean up, and she didn’t really care to spend so much time wiping the floor clean of Sofia’s blood.

So she only jerked the chain hard enough to snap her neck. Then she walked away, leaving the body and the chain behind for someone else to find.

Mostly, though, she’d watched as the other girls killed each other off. She even offered tips to some of the lesser girls, tips she knew wouldn’t work so they couldn’t come back and use them on her.

Year 6 was when the girls had realized they couldn’t kill Natasha on their own. So the girls who were ranked second and third below Natasha teamed up to try. They’d proved to be more of a challenge, one coming at her with a length of rope a couple meters long and the other with a pair of knives. This was presumably so one girl could tie her back while the other stabbed her.

But what those girls didn’t know was that Natasha had been offered private training – she was one of the only girls who had ever merited it – and it wasn’t hard for her to take them on. They’d ended up tied together at the throat, each with a knife through her left eye.

After that, nobody bothered trying to get her themselves, instead hoping that she did something so bad it warranted death as a punishment. But she still looked back over her shoulder, always ready for anyone who dared come after her. And if she happened to meet someone’s eyes, the other girl would look away in fear.

“Natasha. Natasha.” Peggy’s soft whisper pulled her out of whatever it was that had sneaked inside her mind. “Natasha, you’re not there. You’re not with them. You’re with me now. Natasha.”

When she fully came to her senses, she realized how tightly she was holding onto Peggy’s wrists. She let go, turning and placing her hands on the rough surface of the wooden desk. As she leaned forward, putting her weight on her hands as she caught her breath, Peggy lightly touched the small of her back.

Natasha flinched, and Peggy pulled away. She didn’t touch her again, waiting for her to recover.

Once Natasha turned back around, Peggy stepped closer. When Natasha didn’t flinch away, Peggy came closer still. Natasha stiffened when Peggy held her face in her hands, but this time Peggy refused to move away.

“I don’t need to know how many of them you killed,” she murmured. “It doesn’t matter. You’re not like that anymore.” She pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, and then went on, “Natasha, the fact that you’re feeling guilt proves you’re more than just a heartless assassin.”

“I liked it better before,” mumbled Natasha, immediately regretting her words and hoping Peggy hadn’t heard.

But she had. “What do you mean by that?”

“It was easier.” When it was obvious that Peggy was looking for more than that, Natasha pushed her away and went on, “Nothing else mattered, Peggy, nothing. When you were trained out of the ability to think for yourself, you felt nothing. You didn’t care what you did, who you hurt, because it was all part of something bigger than you. You were a tool, waiting for someone to pick you up and use you where they needed you. When it doesn’t matter what you think, you stop thinking anything.

The words that were coming out were wrong, but there was no better way, nothing else she could say would make Peggy understand.

“That’s not how you felt in New York.” Peggy’s voice was gentle, non-accusatory, and Natasha tried to relax her own voice to match that.

“I don’t know what happened there,” admitted Natasha. “I started out fine. I liked the power that came with knowing you held someone’s life in your hands, with knowing you were in control.”

Peggy said nothing to that; Natasha had half-expected her to scold her for that.

“I used Stark to find you, used Angie to get close to you.” Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I think that’s what did it. They told you that all Americans were evil, that they’d have us all dead with hardly a moment’s notice. But Angie… she was so happy. She was kind to me, just a stranger. She welcomed me in. They’d told us that no American liked us. They never said that there were people like Angie.”

“You didn’t know anyone like that in Russia,” guessed Peggy.

Natasha shook her head. “I’d read files on you. You were good. I was almost sorry to kill you. But I guess that since you were living with one of the nice Americans, you were probably one of them too. And I just wasn’t.”

“And then what?”

“I realized that there were some things I could decide for myself, away from my superiors,” replied Natasha. “So I chose all the worst options. Shooting myself instead of you. Joining SHIELD. Coming back here.”

“What about me?” Natasha wasn’t sure what was meant by that, so Peggy went on. “This. Us. Whatever it is that we have. I never know what you’re thinking, Natasha. Am I just another one of your worst options?”

How was Natasha supposed to reply? “I don’t know,” she decided on. “I’ve never done this kind of thing before, I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.”

“It feels like this.” Peggy pulled Natasha into a tight hug, not kissing her, just holding her. Natasha hugged her back, but she still didn’t know if she was doing it because she wanted to or because Peggy wanted her to.

Whatever the case, she knew Peggy would try to help her figure it out.


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm seriously considering deleting this fic and rewriting it bc my writing style has changed quite a bit since I started it and I feel like that's making it harder for me to write? Idk.
> 
> Either way, not sure when the next chapter will be posted. I'm shooting for sometime before I graduate, mid-May, but it all depends on how much homework I get and how many hours I work.
> 
>  
> 
> Possible trigger warning: rape mention mid-chapter, nothing explicit

None of the remaining rooms had anything explicitly stating where the other camps were, but the two of them weren’t about to leave empty-handed. They managed to put together a collection of notes, scraps that wouldn’t have been useful on their own. It wasn’t much, but it was all they had.

Taking one last glance around, something in the corner caught Natasha’s eye. Barely noticeable until she drew closer, she saw small hinges on the floor, painted the same dull gray as the concrete floor.

Natasha, kneeling down, caught Peggy’s attention and beckoned her over with a raise of her eyebrows. “Are you seeing this, Peggy?”

As Peggy stepped closer, Natasha brushed her hands over the floor to find the door’s opening. That, too, had been painted over, and when Natasha felt a small divot in the cement, she tried to push through the paint with her fingers. When that failed, she pulled out a knife from a pocket midway down her thigh and cut through it.

When she finally pried the door open, she gestured to the staircase it had revealed that led into the dark. “You first,” she said, looking over her shoulder at Peggy.

Peggy didn’t protest, just starting down the stairs with one hand on the cold surface of the wall and the other on the gun at her hip. Natasha followed.

Peggy set a slow pace; Natasha was in no shape to protest, although she would have much rather moved through faster. The longer she was here, the more memories infiltrated her mind, no matter how hard she tried to block them out.

Ropes that used to bind their hands together, both for training and for punishment. Standing at attention, naked in the cold rain, knowing that even the slightest shiver deserved five lashes from the whip in the Winter Soldier’s hand.

When the Winter Soldier whipped you, it hurt a lot more than anyone else who wielded the whip. Natasha’s back remembered that all too well.

Of course, the day after a whipping, they’d give you a cream, even spread it on your back for you. Not because they cared about the pain, but because they needed to minimize the scarring.

A girl with a thousand scars on her back would be sure to raise suspicion.

They couldn’t have that.

Natasha had always preferred the whip to the cane. The whip stung more, sure, drew more blood, but it was over much faster.

Usually other things came with the cane.

Things that broke her. But she took it all. And she never cried. They hated that. They became rougher with her. But she never gave in.

Natasha tripped, missing a step in the dark. Peggy was strong and fast enough to catch her, and held her steady as she regained her balance. “Natasha, are you alright?”

Natasha took in a shaky breath. Her voice trembled ever so slightly, as she replied, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But Peggy picked up on what she’d tried to hide. “You’re not fine. What is it?”

This, at least, Natasha could give a good lie for. “It’s my leg,” she told Peggy. “Stepped on it funny and lost my balance.”

“Natasha, you’re shaking.” Peggy hadn’t let go of her arm, and Natasha cursed herself for not pulling away.

“I could have fallen all the way down the stairs. We don’t know how much longer it is. I could have died.”

“Mm hmm.” Peggy still didn’t believe her, that much was clear, but she let it drop. “Are you ready to go on?”

“Yeah, let’s keep going.” And they did.

Natasha almost felt bad for lying to Peggy. She knew the other woman only wanted to help. But this was something no one could help her with, something even Peggy couldn’t save her from, if she could even talk about it.

She couldn’t talk about it.

If it was rough then, it would be rougher now.

And she couldn’t.

She was strong enough for all those other things. This was the one thing she wasn’t. And she was ashamed. For that, and for other reasons.

It would only be worse if she said the words aloud.

But she couldn’t. She wouldn’t.

This was something Peggy couldn’t know. Who would love her, if they knew? Who would even speak to her?

She couldn’t lose Peggy. Without her, Natasha had nothing. The other woman was all she had.

And she couldn’t lose her. She couldn’t lose her place in the world. The place Peggy had let her squeeze into. The only place anyone had ever wanted her.

Natasha wasn’t about to give that up.

It wasn’t long before they reached the bottom of the staircase. Peggy must have found a light switch; Natasha had to squint against the sudden brightness, having been used to the dimness upstairs.

When she could see again, she had to swallow back the vomit that had risen in her throat. She knew this place.

The cold floor. The harsh light. The unforgiving white walls.

The door to the operating room.

Peggy looked over at her, and saw that her face had turned the same white color as the walls. “You’ve been here before,” she whispered, starting towards her but stopping just as suddenly, as if afraid to touch her.

So Natasha was the one to move forward, wrapping her arms around Peggy’s waist and burying her face in her shoulder. Peggy’s arms held her tight, slowly guiding her back so she could reach the light switch.

Even when darkness filled the room once more Natasha couldn’t pull away from Peggy’s embrace, couldn’t forget what they had done to her here. She was trying to be strong, trying not to cry, but she wasn’t strong enough.

Peggy drew Natasha in even closer, close enough that they stumbled over the other’s feet, and let her cry.

If Natasha had dared to cry here, six years ago, they would have failed her. Ever since Natasha was a child, she’d been trained not to cry. If she’d given that up here, she would have proved that she shouldn’t have made it past Year 3, that she was too weak to control her emotions, too weak to throw them aside like the bodies of everyone she’d had to kill to get there.

She would have proved that she had no future beyond tying her own noose.

But Natasha hadn’t cried since Year 1. She’d learned not to, or else they’d bring out the whip.

The first time she’d cried since then, she’d been with Peggy.

Peggy, who could silence a crowd of thousands with just a single stare. Peggy, who could take down four men with just a pencil and a necktie. Peggy, who could do whatever she set her mind to in heels and the red lipstick she loved so much.

Peggy, who had given her warmth when all she knew was ice. Peggy, who was the first person to show her love. Peggy, who kissed her hair and held her while she cried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? <3


	44. Chapter 44

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruhh assuming I haven't failed my math final I'm graduating a week from tomorrow I am not ready to be an adult lmao so here's the next chapter.
> 
> Communist Russia is something far beyond my area of expertise so I'm just making shit up as I go along here bear with me

Peggy gave Natasha all the time she needed to recover. When she finally pulled back, Peggy took her hand and led her back up the stairs. Together they walked back to the storage room on the other side of the building.

Natasha didn’t say a word – she didn’t know if she was even capable of speech. But Peggy didn’t seem to mind. She was still taking the brunt of Natasha’s weight, making it easier for her to walk and easier for her to feel helpless.

The silence between them was weird. It wasn’t like any other silence she’d ever heard.

Natasha was used to the cold silences after the echo of a bullet. The daring silences of shallow breaths and rapid heartbeats. The nighttime silences broken only by the low purr of an owl.

Not the tear-stained silences of unsteady footsteps and soft hands.

She was used to lonely silences, not shared ones.

If she’d known that America would hold this many firsts for her, Natasha might not have come. There was another girl who wanted to take the mission, another girl who was almost as good as her. Lizaveta, who would have been perfect. She would have done the job quickly, without decisions or emotions, without changing her allegiance, and certainly without falling for her target.

And they’d said that Natasha was the best out of all the girls.

Little did they know.

Fuck, little did Natasha know. She had never expected she would do any of this. She had never expected she could.

But here she was, doing the exact opposite of what she’d been assigned to do.

She supposed that Lizaveta was their best girl now.

Natasha and Peggy made it back to the storage room. Natasha lost count of how many trips it took to carry everything they needed out to the truck. Peggy insisted on carrying the heavier things, even though it was only Natasha who had been able to lift the bolts off the door.

But that was how it went, and when everything had been loaded into the truck Peggy told Natasha to wait there for a few minutes. A few minutes turned into half an hour, and Natasha pushed back the assumption that Peggy had been killed by the no one there. Well, there was that one guy that Natasha had tied up. But even if he had somehow freed himself, there wasn’t much he could do with ten broken fingers.

That still didn’t stop Natasha from wondering what the hell Peggy was doing in there.

Forty some odd minutes passed until Natasha saw Peggy finally leave the building. When she entered the truck and Natasha asked her what the hell she was doing in there, Peggy simply replied, “Watch.”

And so they waited. It was only a couple minutes before Natasha watched the building explode. It was a small explosion, sure, but it did the job.

Natasha looked over at Peggy, who finally explained, “If we want to end the program, really end it, we have to destroy any evidence it ever existed. You said yourself it would never be over if anyone remembered it. I’m making sure nobody does.”

“I didn’t know you could make explosives like that,” was all Natasha could manage then, although she didn’t know why she was surprised.

“I was in the war.” Peggy shrugged. “You learn a lot out on the battlefield.”

“They let you fight?” Natasha couldn’t believe it. Men didn’t treat women right out west.

Peggy smiled. “I was training the super-soldier division. They still fought on the front lines, even though the serum was lost. And as Captain America’s liaison, as they call it, he had enough influence on Colonel Phillips to let me do more than just sit around. I still didn’t do much, not until we captured the last Hydra base.

“Of course,” she added, “after the war, Chief Dooley never assigned me any missions because of my sex. It wasn’t until I stopped Leviathan that the other men started to respect me. That was when I gained most of my field experience.”

“So you can make a bomb.” Why wasn’t Natasha capable of coherent speech?

“I can make a bomb,” Peggy confirmed. “That’s what I did here, so you can finally forget.”

There was a pause, and then Natasha leaned across the space between them to nearly fall into Peggy’s lap as she kissed her.

This might have been the first time Natasha had ever initiated a kiss, a real one, and Peggy seemed surprised at first. But it took no time at all for her to melt into Natasha’s lips.

They went on like that for awhile, long after Natasha felt unsafe for letting her guard down. But she didn’t want to end the kiss, not just yet. It was much calmer, much sweeter, than the one they’d shared inside, and Natasha liked this kind better.

But of course, she had to pull back, Peggy’s lips following her own until they could no longer reach. “We have to go, Peggy,” she said softly. “We can’t stay here forever. The mission’s more important than we are, and we’re nowhere near done yet.”

“I know,” replied Peggy. “But one can only hope.”

“Put your dreams on hold and drive.”

Peggy replied, again teasing, “You’re forgetting I’m your boss.”

It was still really hard for Natasha to joke back, but she tried, “Maybe you should give me a promotion.”

She was rewarded with a chuckle – maybe she wasn’t doing so bad after all. “Tell me,” responded Peggy, “what exactly should I promote you to?”

Natasha just shrugged. “You’re the director, you figure it out.”

Peggy smiled again. “Nothing’s coming to mind. I’ll have to get back to you on that one.”

“Think about it when you’re driving,” said Natasha. “You should probably start now.”

“Alright, alright, I get the hint,” said Peggy, and Natasha held her breath. Had she gone too far? Was Peggy mad at her for saying that? Maybe she shouldn’t have said that.

But Peggy, giving her a soft kiss as she started the engine, seemed alright with it.

***

They made slow progress; Peggy didn’t let Natasha drive with her injured leg. Natasha tried to protest, but Peggy would have none of it.

“You need to heal,” Peggy insisted, as always. “You can’t fight if you can’t walk.”

By the next day though, Natasha was fine. Or, not fine exactly, but good enough. She’d done harder things than driving with worse injuries than a bullet wound. And now, with the serum, she healed twice as fast. She. Was. Fine.

She got her chance when Peggy went to the back of the truck to refill the fuel tank and bring more food to the front. Natasha crawled over to the driver’s seat and waited for the other woman to return.

When Peggy came back and saw Natasha there, all she said was, “There’s no use telling you I’m your boss, is there.” It wasn’t a question, and Natasha didn’t answer. Peggy walked around to the other side and opened the door to the passenger side.

“Where are we trying to go?” Natasha asked Peggy. Not being allowed to drive, she’d mostly been dozing off while she left Peggy to try to figure something out.

“I’ve been heading northwest,” replied Peggy. “This says north of here,” she waved a piece of paper, “and –”

“No, no,” interrupted Natasha. “The farther north we go, the more cities we’ll hit.”

“Don’t you remember?” said Peggy. “We passed train tracks on the way out. And you said the camps were all near the tracks, right?”

Natasha knew Peggy was trying, but even though Peggy had spent time in Russia, she didn’t know the country like Natasha did. “There are railroads south of here as well, away from all the cities. The fewer people know about the program, the better. There won’t be any camps back there.”

“You’re right. I should have thought of that.”

“We’ll run into other towns still, but nowhere near as busy as those,” Natasha told her. “We need to stay away from there. We got lucky this time. We might not be if we go back.”

“You know that wouldn’t stop me,” said Peggy. “If we don’t even try to complete the mission it’s never going to get done. This is important to me because it’s important to you. How many times do I have to tell you that?”

What could Natasha say to that?

But Peggy wasn’t done. “Even if we have to risk our lives going back to the cities, I’d do that in a heartbeat. I won’t give up on a mission, especially this one.”

Again, Natasha had nothing to say.

“Are you ready to get going now?”

Natasha nodded, still trying to process Peggy’s speech.

“So, drive.”

And so Natasha drove.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts on this chapter??
> 
> No promises on when the next update will be, if at all.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anyways i love ace natasha

Their journey was mainly one of plains, trees, and unkempt roads. There were small villages along the way; they avoided them, and if they saw them they left them alone. They passed some farms as well, barley fields and more animals than people. Those were impossible to avoid – the roads went straight through them – but again, they were left alone.

Conversations were short, and few and far between. Once they’d stumbled across a railroad, they started driving parallel to it. Close enough that they could check every once in a while to make sure they were still on the right path, but far enough that no one would see them should a train pass by.

Eventually, it got to the point where both women had become too tired to drive. A few hours of sleep here and there weren’t quite enough; they needed more than that, a good night’s rest. So Natasha, yawning nearly nonstop, pulled into the first driveway she saw.

“What are you doing?” asked Peggy. “We’ll be caught if we’re seen.”

Natasha shook her head. “No one lives out here,” she reminded Peggy. “We hit a farm, there won’t be any Soviets there. They’ll check in now again, take more than their fair share, and leave the farmers to grow more. Tell me how high the wheat in this field is.”

“Not very,” realized Peggy. “So you think they won’t be back for a while.”

“Exactly,” Natasha grinned. “I know what I’m doing, Peggy.”

Of course, she actually had no idea what she was doing. She’d never been free to explore her country. Other than the Black Widow’s home and the training camps, all she ever saw of Russia were the cities where she’d been sent on assignments.

Was Natasha making any right decisions now? She didn’t know. Again, she found herself wishing she hadn’t done this. As the Black Widow, life was easier. All you knew was what they told you. If there was anything beyond that, either you didn’t know it, or you didn’t need to know it. You didn’t ask any questions; when they gave you your assignments, they told you exactly what you needed to do and everything you needed to know so you could do it. No more, no less.

Life was much easier that way. There was no uncertainty. You did nothing more than what you were told to do. You didn’t make any decisions other than the ones you were told to make.

Freedom from that had seemed nice at first, but Natasha hadn’t known the costs. Not until it was too late to go back to the familiarity of her old life.

If she could go back in time, Peggy would be long dead by now.

But there was no going back. There was only going forward, further into the decision that Natasha had chosen.

And that had led her here, risking her life in the only country she had ever felt safe in, although even that was only sometimes.

Natasha sincerely hoped that she would still be safe here. She knew she wasn’t. She knew they couldn’t count on luck to get out of here alive. She knew they wouldn’t get out of here alive. She knew she’d rather die here, in her own country. Home.

Maybe Peggy’s optimism – or perhaps it was simply stubbornness – was starting to rub off on her. There was a chance, however slim, that they could succeed. Peggy was desperately holding onto that chance. And Natasha didn’t have the patience to keep telling her that this mission was next to impossible, that if she wanted to live they should turn back now.

So Natasha kept going, and the dirt driveway ended a few meters away from a small house with a bigger barn. She was terrified of what she was about to do. Peggy looked equally terrified, without knowing her plan. She turned to Natasha, the question already on her lips.

“We’re government agents,” said Natasha. “Field agents, from a division we’re not authorized to disclose. We’re on our way to Sverdlovsk. We’re not authorized to say why. We ask only for a night’s rest, and spare fuel to make sure we get to where we need to go.”

“And if he doesn’t believe us? If he refuses?”

Natasha shrugged. “We’ve both got guns. We threaten him, or we shoot him.”

Peggy didn’t look happy about that either, but she never looked happy when killing someone was a possibility. Having no better idea herself, though, she nodded, and together they left the truck and headed for the house.

Surprisingly, the man who answered the door let them in after they told him what they were doing, on the condition that they didn’t hurt his wife.

Aleksei Sovolov and his wife, Yekaterina, were very welcoming. “Most of the government people take, not ask,” Aleksei explained. “There have never been women before.”

Natasha glanced over at Peggy. If there had never been women here, did that make them look suspicious? Did he think they were American spies?

There was nothing either party could do about it right now, though. Sovolov might tell the Soviets when they came back, and there was no telling when that would be; hopefully the women would be long gone by then. Natasha wouldn’t mind shooting them anyway, just to make sure, but there was no way Peggy would want her to.

For now, Sovolov fed them stew. Natasha thought it best not to ask what was in it.

After dinner, they asked Peggy and Natasha questions about their lives. Natasha was much better at fabricating life stories on the spot, but Peggy wasn’t bad for an American. Agata and Feodora were former neighbors, near Kirov. They’d been recruited as nurses during the war, and then recruited as government agents because no one suspects women. They were being sent to Sverdlovsk on a classified assignment.

“What about your husbands?” asked Sovolov.

“Her husband was killed in the war.” Natasha nodded toward Peggy.

“Shot out of the sky over France,” Peggy clarified.

“And what about you?” That was directed at Natasha. “Where is your husband?”

“I was never married,” she replied. “I loved one of my patients but… he didn’t make it.”

“And there was nobody else?”

Natasha shook her head. “Now we have no time for husbands and families. Our work keeps us too busy.”

“You’re spies, yes?”

“In a sense,” answered Peggy. “But we’re not authorized to specify our exact mission, or what man we’re working for.”

Sovolov obviously didn’t like the secrecy. “Very well,” he said. “It’s getting late, would you like to go to bed?”

Natasha glanced at the clock on the wall; it was just after 2200. She looked at Peggy, who said, “That would be lovely. Where should we sleep?”

“You can use our son’s bedroom,” offered Sovolov. “Let me show you.” He led them down a short hallway; the bedroom was the last one on the left.

“I didn’t know you have a son,” said Natasha. “He won’t mind if we sleep in his bedroom tonight?”

Sovolov laughed humorlessly. “He hasn’t slept here in over a year,” he said. “We have no son anymore. They took him. They needed strong, healthy boys to work in the mines. Gerasim was strong and healthy. He was fourteen, he can work for a long time.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” said Peggy.

He grunted in response. “It’s best not to think on it. Goodnight, ladies.” He shut the door as he left the room.

Natasha glanced around. Her gaze landed on a small table, which she dragged over to block the door.

Peggy just watched, and when Natasha looked back at her, she felt the need to defend herself. “Don’t tell me you trust these people enough to leave the door wide open as you sleep.”

“I don’t,” she said, biting her lip.

“And there’s no way you’ve never used a table to block a door.”

Peggy shrugged. “The lock’s always been enough for me. Howard’s security is better than the president’s.”

It was obvious now. “You’ve never been on an assignment like this,” said Natasha. “You’ve never left America since the war, have you?”

“Not for more than a couple days at a time,” admitted Peggy.

Natasha still wasn’t satisfied with the small night table blocking the door, but it would have to do. “I’ve grown up not trusting anyone,” she said, as if Peggy didn’t already know that. “Locks can be picked, and anyone might come in. You never know who that anyone could be, and what they want.”

“Did you block your doors at home?” Peggy asked her. “In Howard’s place?”

Natasha nodded. “What did you expect? I didn’t trust you. Even after I joined your SHIELD, I didn’t know if it was just a front, if you were trying to kill me after you’d gained my trust.”

“When we went to find Dottie–”

“I only trusted you enough,” said Natasha. “When I slept, I woke myself every half hour or so to make sure you weren’t going to do anything. I trusted you enough to work with you. You couldn’t have trusted me much, either.”

“If you were going to kill me,” said Peggy, “then you wouldn’t have told me. You wouldn’t have lied for me when you did.”

“You had no proof that I’d actually done what I said I did,” Natasha pointed out.

“Clearly I trusted you more than you trusted me.”

Natasha acknowledged that with a bob of her head.

“What came after that?”

Natasha wasn’t exactly sure what Peggy wanted to hear. “After you didn’t do anything for awhile, I trusted you more,” she said. “Not enough to like you. That came later, somewhere in the middle of the mission.”

In a whisper, Peggy asked, “How do you feel about me now?”

“You’re the only person I’ve ever trusted this much,” Natasha told her. “So you’re the only person that I’ve ever really liked. And you’re the only person I’ve kissed, and meant it.” She didn’t really know what that was supposed to mean, but it had to count for something.

Peggy seemed to accept it. Maybe she knew what Natasha meant by that more than Natasha herself knew. Or maybe she was just remembering the conversation they’d had, back at the camp, when Natasha had said that she didn’t know what she was feeling because she’d never felt that before, because it was all new to her.

“Are you ever going to kiss me again?” Peggy said playfully.

Natasha raised an eyebrow. “Get over here and find out.”

So Peggy stepped closer to Natasha, and found out that yes, she would kiss her again.

They had to be quiet. If their hosts heard them, there was no telling what they’d do. So they barely dared to breathe, barely dared to tiptoe as they moved closer to the bed.

It was a small bed, so that one person could fit easily but two people would have to squish together. It was also somewhat uncomfortable, the mattress hard and unforgiving on Natasha’s back as she lay down with Peggy’s weight on top of her.

Was this it? This wouldn’t be enough for Peggy forever. At one point, she’d want more. And Natasha would have to give it to her, if she wanted to stay with her. Was the relationship worth it? Natasha didn’t know. What she did know what that now Peggy was all she had.

Natasha knew that she had other options. But she also knew that this wasn’t the time to consider them.

So she held Peggy, and Peggy held her, as they kissed carefully, gently.

Peggy had a much better sense of what she was doing than Natasha. That was hardly a surprise – all Natasha knew was how to take a man to bed. Peggy was well versed in women, her experienced lips gliding over Natasha’s skin.

But then she pulled back. “Is everything okay?” she asked Natasha.

“Yeah?” It came out as a question; Natasha didn’t know where Peggy’s own question had come from. “Why?”

Peggy got up and moved over to sit next to Natasha’s knees. Natasha sat up too as Peggy said, “You seemed uncomfortable. Tense. You wouldn’t relax.”

No man had ever noticed this. “The mattress is hard,” she explained. But as she spent more and more time with Peggy, the other woman found it easier to see through her.

“That’s a shame.” Peggy yawned. Was it real or fake? “Because I’m tired. We came here to sleep. Let’s get some.”

They laid down again, side by side, Peggy’s back pressed up against Natasha’s stomach. “Goodnight,” Peggy whispered.

“Goodnight.”

Peggy drifted off soon enough, but Natasha found it next to impossible to fall asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what do y'all think? Is this okay?


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what are words?
> 
> also, happy 2 years of this fic!!! lmao

Natasha woke up before Peggy, so she had more time to consider. Should they shoot Sovolov and his wife, or leave them alone? If she left them alone, they might not keep this visit a secret the next time the Soviets came to check in on them. If she shot them, the Soviets would know someone was there, someone who wasn’t supposed to be.

It was better to shoot them, she decided. Either way, the Soviets would know that someone had been there, that there was a new threat. There was always a threat. But this time, someone knew what they looked like. Sovolov could describe them to the Soviets. The Soviets would know who to watch out for. It was better to not take that chance.

So Natasha got up carefully, to not wake Peggy, and moved the table to leave the room. Hand on the gun in her pocket, Natasha walked slowly, quietly, through the house. It didn’t take long for her to deduce that their hosts were still in their own bedroom, asleep. Natasha decided to wait on the threadbare sofa for them to wake up.

Her fingers brushed against a small item in one of her pockets. The electric device that Stark has designed for her. The one that Natasha had been determined to never use. But this time, it gave her a better idea.

Perhaps it was wiser to use this, in spite of Natasha’s dislike for Stark. It would do the job just as well as a gun, but with far less mess. When the Soviets next came knocking, they wouldn’t know right away that Sovolov had been murdered. Yes, that was the better plan.

Luckily, the uniform given to her by SHIELD had long sleeves, where she could easily conceal the device. A handshake would do the trick nicely.

Eventually, the Sovolovs awoke, and came to the sitting room. Sovolov seemed surprised to see Natasha.

“Good morning,” she greeted them.

“You’re up early,” remarked the wife – what was her name again?

It didn’t matter. Natasha stood up, extending her hand, making sure her small finger hidden in her sleeve, curled around the device. “Thank you again for sharing your home,” she said. And as the wife stepped forward to shake her hand, Natasha pressed the button with the tip of her finger.

With a quiet zap, the wife fell to the floor.

Sovolov looked at his wife on the ground, then turned to Natasha. “What the hell did you do to her?”

Rather than answering, Natasha leapt forward to shock him the way she had his wife. Again, there was a quiet zap, and then both of them were dead.

Not long after that, she saw Peggy leave the room at the end of the corridor, and she got up from the couch.

When Peggy entered the room and saw the bodies on the floor, her reaction was exactly what Natasha had been expecting. “For the love of god, Natasha, what was that for? They were helping us! You didn’t need to…” her voice trailed off as Natasha stepped towards her, the device still in her hand. Much more quietly, “Natasha?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know exactly why I had to kill them,” said Natasha, taking another step closer, not relaxing her grip on Stark’s invention. “Just because you wouldn’t have done it doesn’t make it the wrong decision.”

Peggy didn’t seem to hear. “Natasha, you wouldn’t.”

“They were a threat,” Natasha told her tonelessly. “Threats must be eliminated. You should know that.”

“So you think I’m a threat?”

“If you don’t take out threats, then you become one.”

Taking a step back, Peggy replied, “So we have to kill everyone we come across?”

Natasha shook her head. “Only the people who have the potential to can get you killed before the mission is complete.”

“So, everybody,” repeated Peggy. “Everyone’s a threat to you, Natasha.”

The device had begun to relax in Natasha’s hand; this made her tighten her grip again. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

There was a short pause as Peggy struggled to decide if she should say what was on her mind, or just keep quiet. “I know how you were raised, Natasha,” she said. “You think everyone wants to kill you. But you’re not in the Red Room anymore. Not everyone out here is a cruel as – as they were.”

“You mean, as I am.” Natasha hadn’t missed Peggy’s stammer. “Say it.”

“You’re not going to kill me, Natasha,” Peggy said instead as she took slow steps forward. “You’re not like that anymore. I know you’re not.”

Natasha scoffed. “Then explain this.” She gestured to the bodies behind her.

Peggy took the opportunity to rush forward the last few steps and grab the hand Natasha was using to hold her weapon. Her grip relaxed as Natasha’s did. “Natasha,” she said in a breathy whisper.

Pushing her away, Natasha said, “This isn’t the time.” She raised the device again. “We have to leave. I’ll find food, you look for fuel. We’ll fill up the truck, and then we’re gone.”

“Okay.” Peggy took a few steps backward at first, as if to make sure Natasha was no longer planning on killing her. Then she turned and went off to do what Natasha had asked.

More time than Natasha would have liked passed before they were back on the road again. Neither spoke.

Natasha was the first to drive, and she didn’t pause until the engine stopped because it had run out of fuel. She left to refill the tank. When she came back, Peggy was in the driver’s seat.

“You can’t drive forever.”

Wordlessly Natasha went over to sit on the passenger’s side. No, she couldn’t drive forever, but she wanted to keep driving until she had to stop. Not only was it an excuse to not talk to Peggy, but paying attention to the road in front of her kept her from dwelling on her own thoughts. What she had done, what had been said.

Although, maybe this was for the better. They couldn’t avoid the topic forever, and Natasha would rather have the conversation when Peggy was less likely to crawl across the seat and strangle her.

Even so, Natasha would not be the one to speak first. But she sat facing slightly towards Peggy, not away, and hoped that the other woman would pick up on her body language.

She did. But all she said to start was just, “Natasha?”

“Peggy?” She matched her tone.

“I’m not angry at you.”

This surprised Natasha. She should be mad at her. “I threatened to kill you, Peggy.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Peggy shrugged it off. “It was my fault, really.”

“I threatened to kill you,” repeated Natasha. “What part of that is your fault?” Those words were hard for her to say. Not because they were true, but because she’d always done the opposite. She could never place blame on herself, just point her fingers so someone else would take the fall, so someone else would be thrown under the whip.

So what was she doing now?

Peggy glanced over at her. “This mission should be your lead, not mine. You’ve done this before; I haven’t. You know what you’re doing far more than I do. You can keep us alive out here better than I can.”

That was all Natasha was trying to do. Whatever it took, she would do it. The mission was more important than her life – she didn’t think she could ever rid herself of that mindset – but the mission could not be completed if she was dead. What Natasha, and not Peggy, had learned was that you could never be too careful. When it came down to it, you had to kill someone if there was even the slightest chance they could do anything to put you in danger and jeopardize the mission.

“So what are you saying?” Natasha asked.

“It’s your mission now. You call the shots.”

“So I’m in charge now?”

“For the time being, yes,” clarified Peggy.

Natasha nodded, trying to smile. “So until we finish this mission, I’m your boss?”

“Of a sort,” responded Peggy. “Is that enough of a promotion for you?”

Were they joking now? How did that happen? “It’ll do.”

The tension gone, the two quickly fell back into their previous rhythm. Alternating between driving and napping, minimal conversation, and stopping only to eat, fill up the tank, and switch drivers.

It was as comfortable as possible in this kind of situation, and during Natasha’s next shift she realized something. This mission might not be such a terrible idea after all.

Of course, that didn’t mean she still didn’t believe they weren’t going to die. But Peggy was right. It was worth it. The Red Room was stealing the lives of girls who hadn’t asked for it, just like Natasha. The Red Room was raising them on blood and fear, just like Natasha. The Red Room was fucking them up beyond hope, just like Natasha.

At first, Natasha had been too afraid to come back here, where she would almost certainly die on an almost certainly impossible assignment. Especially right after she had left, and Peggy had told her that she would be safe with SHIELD.

It had taken her this long to accept that she had to face her fears and throw everything she had into completing the mission.

This was the first time anything like this had happened to her. On assignments from the Red Room, Natasha knew that the only thing to fear were the people sending her out. But this was exactly the opposite.

It was just strange, that was all.

Eventually Natasha came to a stop and woke Peggy.

“Is it my turn already?” she yawned.

Natasha nodded to where the railroad tracks crossed their path in front of the truck. “Which way should we go?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going through a lot rn, so I can't promise when the next update will be, if there will be one at all. Thanks for sticking with me this far, and maybe in a few months I'll be able to get back to this fic


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's finished before I thought it would be so here it is I guess.

After examining their few scraps of maps and notes, the two decided to turn right. Peggy, of course, had insisted on taking over the wheel, even though Natasha’s shift wasn’t up for quite a while.

“My lead,” Natasha had protested.  
“I’m still your boss,” had been Peggy’s response.

And as much as she didn’t like it, Natasha knew when she had to give up. Trying to change Peggy’s mind was like twisting a screw the wrong way. But she wouldn’t fall asleep. Not this time.

No, now she put herself in charge of navigation. Assuming they chose the right direction, they were coming closer and closer to their next destination. And they had to pay closer and closer attention to what they were doing and where they were going. They had to make sure they’d succeed, get more work done to complete the mission.

It had been a couple weeks since their previous score, the first base they’d gotten to. The high from that had long since worn off, and morale was low, even for Peggy. Hope was still there, though, persistent as ever, and Natasha knew that Peggy’s high hopes outweighed her low morale.

After only a couple more days of driving, they came across something new. There was the smallest shelter next to the tracks, and right alongside that was a surface of loose gravel with tire tracks going through it. Though there was no formal road, there were tire ruts with sprinkles of gravel leasing away from the railroad.

The two women looked at each other. “Is this something?” whispered Peggy.

Natasha nodded. “This is where we were loaded into the trucks from the train,” she said. “I don’t think it can be this easy. Anyone who comes across this road can follow it and find the place.”

“The countryside’s been completely deserted for miles,” Peggy pointed out. “Who would go this far into a deadzone like this?”

She wasn’t wrong, but Natasha still didn’t like it. For a secret agency run by spies, this was too obvious a clue. “We’ll have to be really careful,” she warned Peggy.

“You say that as if we weren’t careful already.”

Again, Peggy wasn’t wrong. But Natasha still replied, “We could see anything coming at us from miles away. We’re going someplace where we could be attacked at any moment. A second’s warning before we’re dead.”

Peggy’s hand found Natasha’s. “How many times do I have to tell you? None of that is going to stop me.”

“I’ve spent weeks with you. I’ve long known that you’ll keep going until wither you die or the mission is completed,” said Natasha. “I’m just telling you what to watch out for to stay alive. That’s why you handed over the mission, right? Because I know how to keep us alive.”

With a nod of her head Peggy conceded. “I am trying to help, but you know more than I do.” After a short pause she went on, “Well, are you ready?”

Natasha was ready, so they turned and started down the road.

It was easy going at first, but soon the smooth tire ruts near the tracks became rough with uneven ground. It was made especially more pronounced in the deserted land around the tracks gave way to a thick woods that only became thicker. Hard to see the tracks, now, Peggy was just guessing, trying to avoid hitting anything.

This made much more sense to Natasha; it was well planned out. Unwelcome visitors were so much more likely to get lost among the trees than find the place they were looking for. And in all Natasha’s years in the Red Room, there was only the rare intruder. The Winter Soldier immediately welcomed them inside to be used as live target practice, especially for the girls who still had never had a kill as late as Year 4.

Natasha manned the compass to make sure she and Peggy weren’t just turning around in circles, but even that didn’t mean much as they still had no idea where they actually should be going.

Even though both of them hated having to rely on luck, they were at its mercy now. Natasha knew no god to pray to. But she did believe in hell, so she prayed that they wouldn’t end up there tonight. Was there a difference? Could you believe in hell but not in God? It was probably a good thing Natasha didn’t have time to think on that now; all her attention had to be focused on the compass.

Several hours and gasoline refills later, the trees finally began to thin. After some discussion, Peggy stopped the truck so Natasha could get out.

She’d had the idea of climbing a tree to get their bearings, and possibly ever locate the structure from there. The branches were thick enough for her to safely climb up high enough to see something. Anything. They weren’t picky, as long as it was more than just nothing.

The overgrown branches tangles in Natasha’s hair as she fought through them to get higher. She bounced from tree to tree to find the tallest in the near vicinity, even testing branches that curved under her weight. If she couldn’t climb up high enough to see anything then this would be a useless waste of time. And they couldn’t afford that, not when there was so much at stake.

This might even be the facility the girls were training at; they’d had no information telling them one way or another. And if any of the instructors found them, if anyone found them, they’d be dead. Between even Natasha’s and Peggy’s fighting abilities, they still couldn’t fight off the Winter Soldier, let alone the trainers and the older girls. They’d be facing off against fifty trained killers; the two of them would have no shot.

After a while, Natasha finally made it as high as she could, and although she would have liked to get farther up this would have to do. The trees stretched on for what looked like forever, but Natasha’s sharp eyes didn’t miss the tiniest glimpse of gray stone. Checking the compass, she found that it was southeast of where she was standing.

She looked back, and realized that she couldn’t see Peggy at all. Had she really wandered so far away?

It was important that they could find the tree again, so Natasha scrambled back to the tree that she had come from and sacrificed her smallest knife to the taller tree. Making sure it was firmly embedded in one of the branches, she pulled Stark’s device from its pocket on her sleeve.

This was a bad idea; Natasha knew that. But there was no other way to clearly mark the tree so it could be seen from a distance.

The device could generate 300 milliamps of current, more than enough to kill a man. So Natasha had to be careful as to not electrocute herself along with the tree. She balanced as much as she could on the rubber soles of her boots to try to minimize contact with the tree and ground herself against the current. She didn’t expect it would do much, but if it had the slightest chance of helping her that’s what she would do. Taking a deep breath, she touched the prongs to the knife and pressed the button.

She held it down in waves. A few seconds, then a break, a few seconds, then a break, and then a final few seconds. She felt some of the electricity run through her body, transferred from that tree to this one to her skin. But since the current had no direct path to her heart or her brain, she was fine. The serum most likely played a hand in that as well.

It was obvious, even already, that Natasha had killed the tree. A lot of the leaves, particularly near the origin of the current, had dried and turned brown. The bark was chipping off as well, the branches nearest her almost completely bare. She was positive that Peggy couldn’t see it from where she’d parked the truck. So she’d have to give some sort of signal.

There was only one thing Natasha could think of. She touched the device to the dead branch, and with the last of its power set the tree ablaze.

The fire started out small, and Natasha hurried to climb down the tree as it grew.

Within minutes Peggy was there. “Are you insane?” Her voice was about three octaves higher than normal as Natasha jumped into the passenger seat.

“Drive, just drive!” Natasha pointed in the right direction, and Peggy drove.

They were both breathless as they beat the fire to a clearing in the woods. In the middle of the clearing was a grey stone building. Two stories, one window.

Still full of adrenaline from speeding away from a fire in a country she wasn’t supposed to be in, Natasha got out of the car and began to climb up to the window. Peggy was right behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lms if you also want to start a forest fire in russia


End file.
